


Compliance and Sedition: Anders

by TCRegan



Series: Compliance and Sedition [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Slave, Rape, Violence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 54,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Anders gets on the boat to flee Ferelden and is sold into slavery instead. In Tevinter, he is purchased by Danarius and forms an unlikely relationship with Danarius's bodyguard, Fenris.</p><p>Story to be completed in three arcs, the first of which is told by Anders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The thick carpet left angry red dimples in his knees as he lifted them one at a time as subtly as he could without drawing Danarius's attention. He would have been beaten or worse for calling him by his name out loud, but Anders refused to call him _Master_ within his own head. A week or two of receiving lashes to his back should have been enough to teach him that lesson, but he'd suffered much, much worse in Ferelden. After all, what were beatings on his back compared to facing down mutated darkspawn and broodmothers in the Deep Roads? How did corporal punishment even measure up to the year he'd spent in solitary confinement, slowly going mad, listening to the demons call to him from the Fade? All he'd have to do would be to reach out, accept the offer, and he'd be free. He'd seen worse and had experienced the most awful things that Thedas had to offer a mage and a Grey Warden. This was nothing in comparison.

No, the hardest part of this was not being able to feel Justice. The spirit was there, he knew it. He was still alive. Justice was still a part of him, but inaccessible for now. Danarius, a mage (and how Anders hated to acknowledge that fact), quickly realized he wouldn't bend to traditional slave training. He seemed to understand that he wouldn't break Anders by physical punishment alone. That cutting him off from what was essentially another limb would teach him much more quickly than anything else. Three weeks of punishments like that, being choked and separated from his magic, and he relented, if only to be able to cling to the bit he was allowed when he 'behaved.' It was more effective than the crude methods used on the other slaves. Hit them enough until they stop biting back. And the slaves that Danarius kept were easily cowed. He barely had to raise a hand and they were jumping at his every command. They were all simpering, scraping cowards.

The silver bracelets Anders was forced to wear dampened his powers. He could still cast, but Danarius somehow could adjust their potency. It was nice to be able to access his magic, only now it felt like he was an apprentice again, unable to control even the most basic spells. Unable to access the fury of the spirit inside him. If he could just reach Justice, he knew he'd be able to escape this. Justice would simply tear Danarius limb from limb. But Tevinter was not like any other part of Thedas Anders had ever visited. Danarius seemed to understand what was inside him, to sense Justice somehow, and suppress him with his magic in the cuffs.

Anders flexed his fingers against his thighs, which were clad in tight leather short pants. They were only one step above humiliation from being naked. But Anders had been caught naked many times before, and found he vastly preferred those situations to this one. Rutting with Karl on the First Enchanter's bed, having to explain himself while holding a pillow in front of his crotch while Irving merely stood with his forehead cradled in his palm. He started to smirk at the memory and then stopped. Though Danarius was deep in conversation with another man – another magister – who sat on the couch opposite, he would be watching for any signs of disobedience and punish him.

Danarius raised a hand, signaling for more wine. His bodyguard lifted the bottle. Anders watched Fenris carefully through his eyelashes, not raising his head fully lest Danarius notice. Fenris was short even for an elf, and thin, but wiry. But it was the lyrium burned into his skin that made his appearance so striking. Swirling lines of whitish silver that would look almost beautiful if they were vallaslin instead of lyrium. He remembered seeing the elf for the first time, who was an anomaly even in Tevinter. An experiment. Someone who'd actually survived the branding. Apparently it was a relatively new and extremely rare practice and lucky Fenris was chosen for it. He was there with Danarius when Anders was put up on the block for sale.

_"This one's a mage, and very pretty."_

_Anders ripped his chin from the greasy slaver's hands, struggling against the iron chains. He wasn't in a cage like the others, like so many Fereldans like him who were just trying to escape the Blight. But his hands were bound and they'd placed a collar around his neck that achieved the same effect as a Templar's cleanse._

_"Hm. I suppose he could be considered… pretty. Like a caged bird." Danarius looked him over, then negotiated a price before taking his leash and handing it to the elf next to him._

_The lyrium sang inside Anders' brain and despite himself, he walked closely to the elf, the markings calling to him. He wanted his magic back, wanted to feel Justice again. Wanted to rip the head off of the man who was looking over other Fereldans – other _people_ \- like he was picking out a new set of flatware for his dining table._

_"Do not try to run," the elf whispered to him, in a deep, deadened voice. "It will only be worse when he catches you."_

_Anders would've replied, but the leather strap that was cutting into the corners of his mouth prevented him from responding beyond a few gurgles. What he wanted to say was, 'Fuck you, you might have accepted your fate as a slave but I won't.'_

Fenris poured the wine, face impassive as the other magister eyed him warily. Then he returned to Danarius's other side, but remained standing. Only Anders had to kneel. It was a game for Danarius, to show his fellow magisters that he kept a mage chained. Anders had been forced to prove his magical ability, and even with the bracelets he was impressive. Without them… well, he would drag the whole damn city down with him.

"I doubt the Qunari would dare come so far south to Alam," Danarius said, switching to the common speech.

Most of his business was conducted in Tevene, a language from which Anders barely spoke five words. Which was all well and good. It was easier to focus on his own thoughts and plans of escape without having to listen to Danarius prattle on about whatever passed for a form of government here in Tevinter.

"It is true," the other magister said in halting words. His accent was very thick and his grasp on the language was minimal, but he was making a show of it, trying to impress Danarius with his knowledge.

Danarius saw through it. Of course he did. He wasn't stupid. Cruel and horrible and Anders wanted to wipe the smirk off his face with a fireball. But he was horribly intelligent. Which made his situation all the more dire. The Templars were stupid. Knight Commander Greagoir was trusting. Escaping was a joke. He'd managed it so many times, he wondered if they were even trying anymore in the end. He tried to view his situation as a new challenge. A new lock to undo, a new tower from which to escape.

And the magister was standing, leaving. Anders had missed the end of the conversation. He didn't care. Tevinter politics, Qunari invasions. It meant nothing to him in the grand scope. He needed to focus on getting out. Without removing the bracelets first though, it would be impossible. The only thing for it was to try to learn what they were made of and figure out how to break them. Then with his power and Justice's, he was sure he could overpower Danarius.

_But what about Fenris?_

He glanced fully at the elf this time, who was refilling Danarius's drink before setting the bottle down. He was allowed proper pants and shirt, both black, though the shirt's neckline plunged in a V down to his stomach, no doubt to reveal more of those tattoos. At his side, a leather scabbard and blade. He hardly spoke, and never in front of Danarius's guests. For intimidation purposes, Anders supposed. He wasn't intimidated by the elf, but he had seen him move, how quick he could be with the sword, cutting down someone two days prior in the main hall. Anders hadn't known the man's offense, but watching from the balcony, kneeling next to Danarius, he'd been impressed by Fenris's skill. It might be tricky to get past him, and Anders definitely wouldn't be able to escape unscathed. But pain was a burden he'd gladly shoulder for his freedom.

"My little wolf," Danarius murmured, reaching up.

Fenris knelt now in front of Danarius, unhooking his belt and dropping his sword carefully at his side. Anders flinched. He hated this part of the night. The first time he'd seen it done, he tried to leave, only to be brought down by a jolt of lightning that Danarius had almost casually thrown his way. The next time, he was forced to watch. It was better he realized, to kneel quietly, try not to listen, and wait. The shuffling of fabric, the soft grunting as Danarius resettled, the contented sigh, and the wet sounds of sucking as Fenris pleasured him. Danarius wasn't a dramatic man; he didn't flail around or make a lot of noise. In fact, Anders wondered if the man even cared about the pleasure or if it was just another act of dominance over his slaves.

A hand came down to rest in his hair and he pulled away instinctively. A second later he fell to the ground as his body racked in pain. Not electricity this time, just sharp stabs up his spine and down his limbs. He curled up into himself, jaw clenched tightly. Though it only lasted a second or two, it felt like hours, and the residual effect left him sore and panting. Fenris had not stopped the motion of his head, and Danarius's hand was buried in the elf's white hair. His eyes, however, were leveled at Anders. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the spot next to the chair. With considerable effort, Anders moved to kneel next to him again. He tasted the bile that rose in his throat as Danarius reached out again, petting his hair.

Anders closed his eyes, fists clenching, muscles tightening. It was warm in the room and he felt his nausea increase as Fenris continued enthusiastically, lapping at Danarius's cock. Danarius purred something in Tevene, a word of encouragement probably. Fenris lowered his head, and Anders tried to look away. 

Danarius yanked his head back around. "Watch," he ordered.

Anders watched. The elf had swallowed Danarius's erection to the hilt, nose buried in dark grey pubic hair. He was taking shallow breaths, eyes closed, waiting. Though Anders was likely the furthest thing from a prude, it was hard to watch. Or perhaps Fenris liked it. But if he did, Anders knew it was simply a conditioned response. A symptom of the disease of slavery. He thought of the scared apprentices in the Circle, those who'd do anything to avoid being roughed up by Templars. Bowing and scraping, meant to serve man, not rule over him. He'd seen that extreme of mage oppression, and here was the mirror reflection of it. Neither Chantry seemed to be able to get it right.

Danarius gave an order, and Fenris continued, pulling back, sucking, cheeks hollowing before nearly releasing him. His tongue flicked out and around the head, and Anders heard Danarius exhale heavily. Another command in Tevene, and Fenris finally lifted a hand, wrapping it around the shaft, moving it in unison with his head. Anders was no stranger to giving or receiving oral sex. Maker knew there were only so many ways to amuse oneself in the tower outside of lessons and he'd gotten quite good at it all. But Fenris, he could tell, was trained for something like this. A fighter and a whore, something that Danarius apparently required of this particular slave.

_Let him try it with me,_ Anders thought. _I'll bite it clean off._

But in just over a month of being Danarius's slave - _captive_ he reminded himself – he hadn't been called upon to perform any sexual acts. In fact, Danarius seemed content to simply have him by his side, kneeling next to him during mealtimes or meetings. To sit at his feet while Danarius read to him and Fenris. It was a disgusting mockery of family in a way. Danarius pretending to be a father to them, reading them bedtime stories. He wondered if Fenris realized how demeaning it was. And then he wondered if Fenris was even able to care anymore.

Danarius went still a moment, the hand on Anders's head stopped stroking and the one in Fenris's clenched. Anders saw the barest of flinches on Fenris's face before it was gone in a second. He watched Fenris suck and swallow Danarius's come, licking his lips as he was allowed to pull back. Danarius handed him a cloth and Fenris cleaned the saliva from his softening cock before carefully resettling his robes, tying them closed and buckling the silver belt. Anders still dared not to look away, and instead he found himself watching Fenris. The elf's face was impassive, though he was breathing a bit heavily, his lips swollen and glistening. He remained kneeling.

"Tonight, little wolf, I want you to teach our newest pet the tricks you know so well. I want him ready before we leave for Minrathous and the Satinalia celebration."

"Yes, Master."

The response was immediate and without emotion. Anders swallowed hard, nails digging into his leather pants. Almost five weeks and he'd only been touched by Danarius, and most of that had been to receive a beating, to be cut and bled, or to be petted like a dog. As degrading and painful as it was, it was tolerable for now. Another hardship he had to endure on his way to freedom. He wasn't planning on being around for the Satinalia celebration, so he would definitely be refusing to learn these 'tricks' Danarius was hoping that Fenris would teach him.

"Take him to your room."

"Yes, Master."

Danarius took up his wine glass and a book, settling back in the large armchair. Fenris looked at Anders, who wasn't sure what to do next. Danarius usually instructed him when to come or when to go and when to stay. He learned that even the smallest transgression meant heavier restrictions on his magic, or instant pain. His proverbial leash had never been given to another in the time he'd been a prisoner in Danarius's estate. At night, he slept in a room no bigger than a closet. Being mostly cut off from the Fade when he dreamt wasn't the break from the demons and spirits he'd often wondered about. It was terrifying. As horrible as it was sometimes in the Fade, it could almost be downright pleasant some nights. Cutting him off from the Fade only served to increase the dreams about the darkspawn, horrific visions increasing as the nightmares grew steadily worse.

He needed to escape sooner than later before he was no longer able to hold onto his own mind. He missed his magic, he missed the thrum of the Fade. But more than anything, he found himself missing Justice. Though the spirit could be insufferable at times, he'd been a great boon to Anders. He was focused - if a bit too much - and with him, Anders' power had increased tenfold. Which was why it was so irritating that he'd been caught and sold in the first place. He'd been too trusting. The woman who offered him sanctuary was too friendly. He saw it now, but hindsight wouldn't help his current situation.

Fenris gestured for him to stand. Anders waited a full ten seconds before getting to his feet. He could reach out and punch the elf in the face. After all, his hands were free aside from those stupid bracelets. And Maker knew he tried to remove them. They were too tight on his wrists to slip off and no amount of his own magic could remove them. But he didn't need magic to exact physical harm on another. In a lot of situations, it was all he needed. The taint in his blood gave him extra speed and strength and the elf had left his sword on the ground. After knocking him flat, he could likely overpower Danarius, or distract him long enough to take up Fenris's sword.

Or Danarius would simply strike him down where he stood. As desperate as his situation was, it was preferable to death for the moment. And he would be gone from this place long before he was begging for death. A year in solitary in the Circle didn't break him, and neither would being treated like some pet. But one thing was for damn sure, he thought as he finally followed Fenris out. He would _not_ become Danarius's whore.


	2. Chapter 2

The elf's room was much larger than his little closet that held only a slim bed and a small wooden chest. Fenris had a double bed with a much thicker blanket, and a small fireplace. There were only two windows, both high up and out of reach, and much too small to climb through, and a closet that was missing its door. Anders saw several outfits hanging inside, all in varying colors and type. Clearly Danarius appreciated a well-dressed pet. Anders had hardly been allowed more than the short pants he wore now. The only other things in his chest were a longer pair of linen pants and a tunic to be worn during mealtimes. Anders supposed clothing had to be earned or some such rubbish. He wondered what happened to his staff and small bag he'd brought with him on the ship.

His mother's pillow was in that bag.

His fingers curled again, small, weak snaps of electricity forming between them. Barely enough to be considered a spark. He'd likely get more of a result dragging his feet across the carpet than with his magic. Fenris lit a fire, stoked it for a moment, then started to disrobe. Anders watched him. The elf was nice enough to look at, he supposed. In another situation, in another time, he might be tempted to turn his charm on and try to bed him. But that life was behind him now and he had to focus on getting out.

"We're not actually going to do anything, right?" he asked. And when Fenris said nothing, just hung the shirt in the closet, Anders tried again. "I'm hardly a virginal flower. I really don't need a 'lesson' in what you do with Danarius. He's made me watch you suck him off every night for the past three weeks."

"The master."

Anders scowled, crossing his arms. The metal of the bracelets were cold against his chest. "Danarius."

Fenris did not deign to correct him again. He simply untied the laces to his pants, pushed them down over his hips and stepped out, folding them carefully and placing them in a chest on the closet floor. He turned naked to Anders now and waited, hands on his hips. 

Anders frowned, shifting his weight, keeping his eyes level with the elf's. "No." 

Fenris sighed and crossed the room. Anders backed up at once, trying to pull away as the elf clamped down on his wrist and dragged him forward. He stumbled a bit and regained his feet before yanking back, feeling the sting of Fenris's nails as they left scratch marks along his forearm when he tried to hold on. It happened in a burst of white light. The lyrium brands came to life and for one glorious second, Anders felt his connection to the Fade as clear as a cloudless day. He reached for it desperately, tried to cast a spell that would knock Fenris out. He raised a hand as Fenris reached out and the spell fizzled.

"What…" 

And in a second Anders was laid out flat on his back, the spell he was going to use on Fenris ricocheting. He lay still for a moment, dazed from the impact. Fenris leaned over, the fire casting him into shadow as he looked down at Anders, tattoos no longer glowing. 

"Are you going to stop acting foolishly?"

Anders scowled. "Wanting to escape from this isn't foolish," he said, struggling to sit up; Fenris had not offered his hand. "Being content to stay is." When Fenris didn't say anything, he pressed on. "What happened with the spell? I could feel my magic again."

"Do you think your cuffs only dampen your magic? You are well-shackled, mage. Get used to it."

Anders frowned, looking down at his wrists. So they would rebound his magic as well as mute it. It would be another obstacle he'd need to overcome.

"We should get started," Fenris said, gesturing to the bed. "Unless you prefer the floor."

"I _prefer_ not to be forced to into having sex with someone," he said, getting slowly to his feet. He pushed his hair back behind his ears. He'd not been given anything to tie it back with, and it was starting to become a nuisance. If he ever found a pair of scissors, he would shear it right off out of spite. Let Danarius pet _that_.

Fenris gave him a calculating look. "The quicker you submit, the less pain you're likely to experience."

"Is that your mentality? Is that why you get on your knees for him? Suck him off every night? Because you can't tell me you honestly enjoy it. You'd prefer that to a bit of pain?"

"It is my role."

"What a sad, sorry excuse for an elf you are. Just accept your lot in life. Don't even bother fighting back. I've known people who've had it a million times worse than you who've fought back and you know why?" Anders prompted

"Because they'd rather whine about their position than accept what the Maker has deemed their role to be?" Fenris said, his tone very even and neutral.

Anders threw his arms up in disgust. "Is that some sort of Chantry bullshit they have you swallowing?"

Fenris sat down on the bed. He closed his eyes a moment, released a breath. It was as if he was steeling himself, gathering his patience. Anders was familiar with the mannerism, though usually it came from someone with authority over him. Teachers, the First Enchanter, the Warden-Commander. He refused to think of Fenris in the same vein as them. Fenris was a slave, a broken shell who would rather lie down and die than going out fighting. Anders both pitied and was infuriated by him. He wanted to help him but in the next moment wanted nothing more than to forget he existed.

In the end, Fenris ignored the question. "If you already have the skill that the master requires of you, we only need to do this once."

"Why don't you just lie, and we can sit in silence for a few hours instead?" Anders suggested. He moved to the closet and started rifling through the outfits. None of them would fit him, but he needed to work off his feeling of irritation and simply standing in the middle of the room wasn't going to do that.

"Because he knows if one of his slaves is lying," Fenris said simply.

"Then you should work on that," Anders replied. He pulled out a blood red tunic that seemed to be in tatters. Upon closer inspection, it was simply the way the garment was sewn, designed to hang from the shoulders with wide slits and no sleeves. Completely ridiculous and obviously not made for functionality.

"You're a mage," Fenris continued. "Surely you understand that through blood magic-"

"No," Anders snapped. "No, I don't understand blood magic. I don't use blood magic. Not all of us are like Danarius. Not all of us want to keep slaves and sip brandy while making veiled threats at people who we consider weak. It's not like this at all outside Tevinter." He put the tunic back and turned to face Fenris, crossing his arms once more.

Fenris had never really been privy to his rants, Danarius rarely leaving them alone together for more than a few minutes. And Anders was never allowed to speak to the others that were in the mansion. New slaves, apparently, were the reason for a lot of uprisings and rebellions. They would incite the others, and therefore had to be kept apart from them lest they put dangerous ideas in their heads.

"Mages are prisoners of Templars. They're taken away from their families as children and locked in towers. Not given any privacy. Watched all the time. They're treated like they're subhuman," he finished quietly.

Fenris remained silent for a moment. "You were unlucky to have been born outside of the Imperium."

Anders sighed. "No I wasn't. This isn't any better. I wouldn't want to keep slaves and… and… make my slaves rape my other slaves and beat them when they just want to live their lives as normal people."

"This is normal for the Imperium."

"It doesn’t make it right!" Anders said, exasperated. "Just because everyone has slaves here. It's illegal in the rest of Thedas for a reason."

"Yet mages in the rest of Thedas are imprisoned and you would compare their slavery to my own," Fenris pointed out.

"Yes! And it's wrong! They only get away with it because that's what the Chantry says is right. What's right about enslaving people and treating others like second class citizens just because some old dead prophet says so?"

"You're referring to Andraste."

"Yes," Anders said, and he felt a small bit of relief. He hadn't had anyone to talk to since he woke up, gagged and bound and being tossed about like a bag of luggage. And when Danarius talked to him, it was to ask rhetorical questions or bark orders. As much as he disliked this complacent elf before him, he was capable of coherent and intelligent discourse. Even if he'd been brainwashed to believe that all of this was how life was supposed to be.

"Andraste was a mage."

"Andraste –" Anders broke off, frowning. "That's not what the Chantry teaches."

"It is here. You will see when you attend service at the chantry on this week's end. The master has mentioned he's taking you."

"Oh lucky me," Anders said, rolling his eyes. "If it's in Tevene, I'm afraid I lost my translation dictionary along with my other possessions when they sold me."

"Parts are in the common speech," Fenris informed him, almost helpfully.

"I really, really don't care."

Fenris sighed. "It gets… better," he offered.

"No. It doesn't," Anders replied. "I've been locked in a tower since I was twelve. It never gets better. It just gets easier to forget what life was like before you were stolen away."

Fenris looked away at that, down at the blanket where he slowly picked a piece of fuzz from the wool.

Anders frowned. "Did I say something?"

"I have no memory of what it was like before I received my markings."

"Oh." That… explained a lot. Why Fenris didn't seem to have the will to fight. Why he seemed so content to do whatever Danarius told him. He wasn't simply a slave who'd given up. He had nothing else to compare it to. "Oh," he said again, unable to think of what else to say. Even though Anders was taken to the tower when he was a boy, he still had twelve years with his parents. Memories which reminded him there was another life outside the tower. "Didn't you ever want a different life, though?"

"No."

Anders waited, and when Fenris stayed quiet, he slowly walked over to him. "It's different out there, Fenris. It's better. It would be for you, anyway. You're not a mage."

"Are elves really treated much better outside the Imperium?"

"Well. They're not slaves," Anders offered, gesturing a bit.

Fenris reached out suddenly and seized his hand in a very tight grip. Anders tried to pull away at once, but stopped when the elf's tongue came out and licked his index finger.

"What are you-"

Fenris pulled the digit into his mouth, and Anders fell silent. He felt the elf's skilled tongue work around his finger, a terribly good impression of the service he'd just performed on Danarius only a few minutes ago. Anders watched as Fenris seemed to actually enjoy himself, or perhaps it was just a conditioned countenance. Did Danaris tell him what to do with his facial expressions during the act? Likely. Danarius was a man who demanded perfection in detail. Fenris might have been allowed to slip, a little flinch here or there in private but in public, he had to be precise.

Fenris released his finger, and Anders felt nothing but disgust. The act would've been erotic, a move that would likely have earned Fenris a lapful of Anders and a tongue in his mouth at once, if it hadn't been forced. Fenris didn't want this any more than he did. There was no lust, no desire. It was the same as teaching someone how to scour pots or pick vegetables from a garden. Anders found he'd rather be doing manual labor. Why couldn't he have been sold into that form of slavery? Why did the slaver have to describe him as 'pretty'?

Anders tried to pull back, but Fenris pulled his palm to his lips and licked. "Fenris-"

"Start with your hand. He'll want some friction but not much."

"I don't want a lesson in-"

Anders was pulling back, and while he was taller, broader than the elf, he lacked the strength. A month on a slaver's ship, bound and gagged and another month of sleeping in a closet with only meager meals and he'd lost most of the muscle afforded to him from his Grey Warden routine. Fenris never had to experience that. He likely trained every day with his sword, and while he was lanky, he was strong. Anders winced and was forced to his knees. Fenris dragged his hand forward and wrapped it around his cock, forcing him to stroke. Anders let his fingers uncurl, repulsed at the weight in his hand. He didn't even want to _look_ at him, let alone touch him.

"You're going to make this much more difficult on yourself," Fenris said, not releasing his wrist.

Anders stared at Fenris's knee. The markings swirled even there, and he could almost feel the lyrium, the power. Raw lyrium in a mage's hand was deadly. It would drive them insane. Even dwarves who had a natural immunity to it would suffer if their blood was infected with it. Was he really tattooed with unrefined ore? Or was simply the liquid branded into his skin? Despite himself, he leaned closer to the markings.

"If it helps," Fenris said, "you may pretend it's someone else."

Anders snapped his head up, glaring at him. "No. It wouldn't help," he snarled. "This isn't mutual pleasure. This is forced. I'm being forced to perform like a pet monkey."

Fenris's fingers dug into his wrist, and Anders knew he would leave bruises. If he was lucky, he might be able to call upon a bit of his natural healing ability to get rid of them. But not here. Not now.

"Then show me that you are capable and we will call it done. I will report to our master that you are sufficient and that will be it. Why prolong the wait to the inevitable?"

Anders sneered. "Because some of us aren't content with being whores."

Fenris grabbed Anders's hair with his free hand and yanked. Anders winced and tried to pull away, toppling back, taking Fenris with him. They grappled on the floor and at one point Anders managed to get on top, struggling to pin him. Fenris lifted a leg around his and in a move so swift, so strong Anders had no idea how he did it, Fenris was suddenly above him, straddling his hips, hands pinning his wrists to the carpet. Anders fought against him and succeeded in only giving himself rug burn on his shoulder blades.

"Let me up," he demanded, glaring up at Fenris.

Fenris didn't respond. He shifted Anders' wrists to one hand. Anders tried to pull free, but the elf held him down still. In his supine position, Anders simply didn't have the leverage he'd needed to push him away. The ties of his short leather pants were undone with a careful tug, and Fenris pulled them down, yanking them hard over his hips. Anders instinctively spread his legs, trying to keep Fenris from pushing them down further. A flash of lyrium, a quick breath of clarity, and the leather tore in two. Fenris tossed the tatters into the fire. The acrid smell permeated the room, causing Anders to gag.

"Get off," Anders snarled.

"This could have been so much easier," Fenris said, sounding simply bored as he resumed his hold on Anders' wrists with both hands.

Anders tried to roll away as Fenris sat up. "Let go of me!"

And to his surprise, Fenris did. Anders shoved him away and scrambled back, curling up as to preserve some modesty. Not that Fenris hadn't already seen him naked. He was present when Danarius stripped him and tied him to a chain hanging from a ceiling in a room Anders hadn't seen since his first week of being in the mansion. The riding crop was painful, leaving welts and wet streaks of blood across his back. But more disturbingly it was the desire demon that paced like a caged beast, running her hands up and over her bare breasts, down over her stomach, waiting for him to give in.

Fenris sighed, looking down at the carpet, white hair falling into his eyes. "He will not let you leave this room until I give him a positive report."

"Then you can bloody well tell him I'm your star pupil."

"Have it your way, mage," Fenris said, standing and shaking out his limbs. He walked to the bed. "It's going to get cold soon, even with the fire. You're welcome to share the bed."

"How gracious of you," Anders spat.

Fenris didn't answer, just climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up over himself. Anders tried the door. It was locked, of course. He spent the next five minutes banging on it, trying to get out, and finally had to relent. His fists were red and sore. Resigned, he let a rolling wave of healing energy wash over him. At least _that_ didn't seem entirely dampened by the cuffs. With a scowl, he stalked to the closet, pulled out what looked like a dress, a long sort of nightgown, and tugged it on. It went to his knees and covered his dignity at least. It must have nearly reached the floor on Fenris. He might have amused himself with the ideas of why Fenris had something that resembled a dress in his closet, but he was too angry to care.

Determined now more than ever to hate Fenris, he curled up in the small space at the bottom of the closet and hugged his knees to his chest. No matter how cold it got, he wouldn't share the bed with that elf. Ever.


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris was right, it did get cold at night in the closet, but Anders stayed curled up and cramped. In the morning, he watched Fenris get out of bed and build the fire up a bit more. The elf approached the closet and Anders pulled back, but Fenris didn't even bother to look at him. He opened the chest, pulled out a pair of white linen pants and tugged them up over his hips. Fenris began an exercise routine, stretching first and then dropping to the floor to perform pushups. Anders lost count after fifty. Then crunches. Lunges. Several others Anders had no name for which were apparently designed to build and maintain the taut muscle.

"You could probably overpower him," Anders said, though he didn't expect a response. "He's a powerful mage but you could catch him by surprise. You have your sword and your markings. I've seen how fast you can move. You could kill him."

Fenris backed up against the far wall, toward the door. He ran the short distance, and Anders hated how impressed he felt when the elf used the momentum to bounce from the corners, reaching up to grab the windowsill. For a moment, he thought Fenris would try to pull himself through the narrow space. But no, it was just another part of the exercise. Using only his upper body strength, he began pulling himself up and lowering himself slowly. Anders watched for a while before trying again.

"You obviously don't want to talk about killing your master," Anders said. "So what happens next?"

The door opened and Fenris dropped to the ground, turning. A thin elven woman came in, not looking at either of them. She set down a basin of water and various bathing effects, then started to change the bed linens.

"Good morning," Anders said to her, getting to his feet, coming out of the closet. "You're the one who dressed my wounds that first week, aren't you? What did Danarius call you?" He ignored the way the woman flinched at her master's name. "Alana, right? Are you okay?"

She glanced at him, terrified, and quickly continued making the bed. Anders saw she had a black eye and wondered if Danarius had done it, or if it was someone else. Likely Danarius would punish her using magic, and this was the result of some imagined transgression by someone else with authority over her. Anders approached her slowly and touched her shoulder. She stepped back immediately, cowering, and he put a hand up.

"It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you," he said, and placed his palm over her eye. He was again surprised at how easily the burst of blue magic came to him, warm at his fingertips. "There."

She reached up and touched her eye, looking at him in confusion. She opened her mouth as if to say something but quickly turned away and finished fluffing the pillows before running out. Anders turned. Fenris had his arms crossed, watching him.

"It's called kindness," Anders scowled.

Fenris shook his head and walked to the basin, picked up a cloth and started to wash away the sweat. Anders walked over, palm out over the water, and warmed it for him with an easy spell. Fenris still said nothing, just paused and waited for Anders to finish and move away before he resumed.

"You're to remain here," Fenris said. "While I report to our master. Someone will bring you food."

"How about a decent set of pants? And oh, my staff would be nice. And freedom as well, Maker knows I could do with a big old helping of that."

Fenris clenched his jaw and ducked his head into the basin, scrubbing at his hair with a small bit of soap before rinsing. The towel he dried off with was ratty and worn, and his hair hung damply in his eyes when he was done with it. He changed into slim black leather pants and a black vest, and left without a parting word to Anders.

Anders tried the door, though wasn't surprised to find it locked. Immediately he started searching the room, looking for any potential way out. The walls were made of stone, likely too tough and thick to dig through. The windows as he'd noticed earlier were narrow, but perhaps he could get his bearings if he could look out them. He wouldn't be able to scale the wall the way Fenris had, though. Casting around, he ran a hand back through his hair and sighed. If he were in the tower, how would he go about doing this? Well, he'd use a spell to get him up there. But seeing as the cuffs were taking that option from him…

His eyes fell on the fireplace poker and he snapped his fingers. "Aha!"

Quickly he pulled back the linens on the bed and started tying them together, making a sturdy rope. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like this. Though he had fallen about twenty feet and nearly broke his neck when he tried climbing out of the tower. Thankfully a helpful Templar recruit named Cullen had been there to break his fall. That had been fun to explain to the First Enchanter. With a chuckle, he tied the end of the rope to the poker and hurled it like a spear. It took three tries but eventually it flew through the gap and when he drew it back, it stuck. Taking a breath, he pulled hard; it held. Muscles protesting their renewed use, he started to climb, bare feet scrabbling at the wall to try to ease his passage. He managed to fit one arm through the gap in the window and looked out.

"Andraste's flaming knickers," he breathed.

He'd seen the mansion from his cage atop a cart when he was brought in. The front was impressive, three large towers rising, two from either corner, one in the middle. Giant black iron gates surrounded the grounds, and even cut off from the Fade as he was, Anders could feel the magical thrum from it. The entire place was enchanted, he was sure. Wards and spells to keep unwanted visitors out, to impress or intimidate guests. He must've been looking out the back side of the mansion now though. A sprawling yard, beautiful green grass that rolled to the shores of a lake. As far as he could tell, there were no other houses or estates around. Danarius must own the entire lake. It wasn't nearly as large as Lake Calenhad; Anders could see the surrounding shore even through the small window.

He removed the poker from its bracing position outside the window and carefully dropped down. From what he could see, he decided he was on perhaps the third or fourth floor. Even if he could get out of the room that way, it would likely be suicide. The only way he would escape this room would be through the door. At least, he reasoned, he had idea of where he was. Uncoiling the linens, he replaced them on the bed and had just picked up the poker to replace it as the door opened. He turned, expecting to see another slave, perhaps the elven woman again, and scowled to see Danarius leading Fenris.

Danarius closed the door and ordered Fenris in Tevene. Fenris immediately stripped and stood in the middle of the room, eyes downcast. Anders felt a sick twist in his gut. He would be forced into it now, to pleasure Fenris in front of Danarius, all because he hadn't complied the night before. Danarius said another word, and Fenris dropped to his hands and knees immediately. Anders felt slightly ridiculous in the short nightgown-dress thing while Danarius was fully clothed. Angry, embarrassed, and frustrated, he started toward them.

Danarius chuckled. "Back."

Anders didn't listen, poker still in hand. Even if the door was still locked, even if he couldn't get out, he would kill Danarius. He ran forward, lunging, and would have caught Danarius in the stomach had Fenris not reached out to grab his ankle, tripping him easily. Anders fell forward, the poker clattering from his grasp. He felt his arm twist, and screamed in pain as a bone snapped. Instinctively he reached for the healing magic, and was relieved when it came. The bone knitted and the pain was washed away in seconds.

Danarius smirked at that, looking down at him. "You have confirmed my suspicions. Spirit healer," he mused, interestedly.

"So glad to be of service," Anders said, wincing as he sat up.

Danarius removed a knife from his robes and brought it to his palm. Slicing, he let a few drops of blood dot Fenris's bare back. Anders recoiled from it, the foul magic an anathema to his own. A black shadow appeared, a slit in the pocket of the Veil. Anders felt the draw of the desire demon before he saw it and backed away quickly, against the wall furthest from it. She stepped through the slit, laughing as Danarius spoke to her.

"Make him beg," he said, gesturing to Fenris.

Anders watched in horror as the demon withdrew a whip from thin air. He wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that the demon was going to beat Fenris, or that he seemed almost happy to take it. She drew back once, the whip whistling through the air and a sharp _crack_ as it came across Fenris's back. His fists clenched, but he didn't let out a sound.

"Stop!" Anders cried, getting to his feet. "Stop it! What did he do to deserve this!"

Danarius turned to look at him. "You wish him to be spared? You wish for it to be you instead?"

Anders didn't wish for pain. He didn't even like Fenris, but Fenris hadn't done anything. "No, I… why are you doing this? What did he do?"

"Fenris," Danarius said, as if speaking to small child, "explain."

The whip came down again, the next hit leaving a long, thin trail of blood. The desire demon knelt down, her long tongue unfurling, tracing a path over it.

"I have disappointed our master and I am paying the consequence."

Anders felt his fingernails digging into his palms, his chest tightening in anger. So Danarius was going to have Fenris punished because he failed to turn Anders into a compliant whore. Danarius, no doubt, believed this would be the best way to get to Anders to respond. And Maker damn the man, he was right. Any punishment should have been Anders', no one else's. Keeping away from the desire demon, he edged around the room. She brought the whip down twice more, and Fenris's resolve was faltering. Though he tried not to cry out, sweat was forming on his brow and he looked ill. Anders knelt, not caring if Danarius tried to keep him away.

"Fenris," he said quietly.

Danarius held up a hand to stop the demon's work. She pouted and stalked the room, back and forth like a caged tiger. Fenris said nothing, merely waited, arms shaking.

"Fenris," Anders said again. "I never wanted to see you tortured. Danari-"

A sharp influx of pain cut him off, the same stabbing feeling up his spine and down his limbs. He cried out, lacking Fenris's threshold for pain, and ended up curled on his side, panting. Above him, he saw Fenris glance at him briefly before retraining his eyes back to the floor. It took Anders a moment to recover, glaring at Danarius, who was looking at him with a somewhat bored expression.

Anders knew why he'd been punished, and he swallowed hard, addressing Fenris again. " _Master_ ," he spat, the word tasting like ash in his mouth, "should be taking it out on me, not you." He looked up at Danarius when Fenris said nothing. "Stop this."

"You know how to make it stop," Danarius said.

So that was his choice. Watch Fenris be tortured or submit to a sexual act that he'd performed countless of times before. Though it never was under duress. He'd been one of the fortunate mages in the Circle, never having had to yield to a Templar in such a way. And how disgusting was it that he considered himself a _fortunate_ Circle mage because of that? He would have to agree. It was the right thing to do. He couldn't let someone else take the fall for him, not even Fenris.

"I can handle the pain."

Danarius frowned. He'd heard Fenris, though the elf spoke quietly. Anders reached out to tilt his chin up, looking him in the eye. Fenris's expression was empty, lifeless. He was simply resigned. Could he really let Fenris do this? Fenris reached up and pushed him back before lowering his head again. Danarius nodded to the demon. She laughed gleefully and brought the whip down once more. 

Anders let out a breath. What was Fenris thinking? He wasn't under any false assumptions that the elf was a noble creature. He'd been ready to force himself on Anders the previous night. He hadn't wanted to lie to Danarius to save them both the trouble. But now he was willing to take six, seven… ten more lashes Anders counted. And on the last, Fenris did cry out in pain, collapsing finally as his arms and legs gave way. 

Danarius dismissed the demon and looked at Anders. "You will heal his wounds. Make sure he is ready to attend me at supper. And you will be ready as well. Alana will bring you your clothing." He waved his hand. A ball of red light flew from his palm and split in two, catching the cuffs on Anders' wrists.

Anders felt a surge of warm, healing magic – his own magic – flowing through him. Before he could realize what happened, Danarius was gone, the door shut and locked behind him. Immediately Anders went to Fenris, blue light washing from his own hands as he healed the elf. It was so clear, so strong, his connection to the Fade. And yet all he could do was heal. Danarius controlled the cuffs fully, allowing him access to his curative magic and little else. It would have been fascinating to know how it worked, and had he been in any other situation, he would have asked.

"Hold on," he whispered to Fenris, standing and moving to the basin. He was still able to heat the water, warm enough now so that it was no longer chilly. Using the towel that was left, he dipped in the end and returned to Fenris, cleaning him off. "Why did you do something so stupid?"

Fenris said nothing for a moment, laying still, staring at the fire, wincing as Anders continued to clear away the blood and ease the pain from his muscles with another spell. "It was my failing. Therefore it was my punishment."

Anders tossed the towel aside and pulled Fenris up to look at him. "He did that so I would submit. He knew that I wouldn't care what happened to myself."

Fenris gave him an appraising sort of look, and Anders thought he saw a small curl of a smirk on his lips before it was gone. "And you care so much what happens to me, mage?"

"Of course I-" Anders cut off. Why should he care about this elf? He was rude, weak, and mindless. He was content being Danarius's slave and bodyguard and whore. But, Anders reasoned with himself, Fenris was still a person. And no one deserved to be treated the way Danarius treated any of his slaves. Perhaps, maybe before Justice Anders wouldn't have cared so much. Letting someone else take the blame for him. Someone he didn't care about, someone who didn't care about him. But no, that wasn't it. Watching someone get hurt, watching someone being _tortured_ wasn't something he could do and feel good about. "Of course I care if someone gets whipped," Anders said carefully. "It's unjust, what happened to you. What happens to everyone in this house."

"That is a bad mentality to have as a slave. It will only cause you anguish."

Anders shook his head. "I don't care. I'm not going to bow to Danarius. I'm going to escape from here and when I do, I'll come back and free you and all the others."

Fenris let out a wry bark of laughter. "Oh? Perhaps you should shelve the fairytales, mage. If you listen to him, he'll make you his apprentice. You'll no longer be a slave."

Anders pulled him to his feet and guided him to the bed. Fenris, still weak from the beating, allowed himself to be led. Anders tucked him in. It was still a few hours until supper, and Fenris would need the rest. Despite himself, Anders smoothed back Fenris's hair.

"I will never, ever become like him. I'd die first."

"Be careful what you say now," Fenris said with a sigh, eyes closing. "You may soon find yourself changing your mind about a great many deal of things."

Anders frowned and watched as Fenris drifted off to sleep. He cleaned the blood from the carpet the best he could, collected the rags and dumped them all into the basin. Alana came an hour later and found him pacing. She set down a tray of food and a box of clothing and left without a word. But Anders wasn't hungry. He woke Fenris and set the plate on his lap, watching the elf eat silently.

"I suppose we have to attend supper," Anders said, moving to the box to sort through the things. A pair of black smallclothes which were little more than a thong, and a black vest for himself. "Charming. They don't even have outfits like this at the Pearl and that place was as classless as you could get."

"Once you give in to what he expects of you, he would see you in proper robes, I'm sure."

"Stop trying to be nice to me," Anders sighed. "Let's… just get this over with."

Fenris extricated himself from the bed and they dressed. The slim fitting leather trousers and sleeveless black tunic caused Fenris's tattoos to stand out even more. He did cut an intimidating figure, and with a blade strapped to his side, whoever Danarius was having for guests would likely be impressed. Anders wondered if he would be made to demonstrate his own powers to other magisters as well.

_Definitely. After all, you're a pet now. At least until you can figure a way out. Might as well try to make it as painless as possible for yourself._

Hating himself for that small voice of resignation, and determined not to give into it, Anders waited to be led to the dining room.


	4. Chapter 4

Danarius did not require either of their services once the plates were cleared away. Fenris had done his part by properly intimidating the guests, and Anders remained quietly at the side of Danarius's chair. He hadn't even flinched when Danarius stroked his hair, and took each morsel of offered food from his captor's fingertips like he was a dog. It was a new form of humiliation, he realized, and only remained compliant because he knew the punishment would be harsh, as they had quite a few guests. Not that Anders really cared what they thought of him or Danarius, but he knew what would be in store for embarrassing the man. And he wanted to cling to what little magic he had now, and had no desire to see Fenris punished for his own noncompliance.

Tonight it was several other senators and a woman Anders had never seen before but managed to catch her name amidst the Tevene spoken: Hadriana. She would have been quite pretty with her chin length black hair, pale skin and ice blue eyes, but it was clear she was vying for Danarius's favor. Politics and social classes of Tevinter confused Anders and he didn't plan on staying long enough to work it all out, but it was obvious Danarius was someone of extreme importance.

And so it was that Anders found himself returning with Fenris to his room. The basin was removed, the fire lit, and a small plate of bread and cheese was left out along with a bottle of weak wine. Fenris stripped his clothing, adding both to the closet almost reverently. Anders frowned. As uncomfortable as the barely-there smallclothes were, he felt better in them than out. Ignoring Fenris as the elf started a nighttime exercise routine, he turned to the bread and cheese and ate a little. The entire day he'd only had bits of fruit from Danarius's fingers, and the roast duck that was served to the magisters smelled delicious.

"Will Danarius have you beaten again tomorrow if we don't go through with this?" Anders asked, mouth full.

"Yes," Fenris said simply.

Anders took a sip of the watered down wine and sighed, turning to look at him. There was really only one choice for him. He took another sip and steeled his nerve. "All right."

Fenris stopped mid-push up and looked over at him. Slowly he leaned back, kneeling, hands on his thighs. "All right?"

"I'm not going to be held responsible for his actions. And I won't be made to feel guilty. Which is likely exactly what he wants. But if it keeps it from happening again…" Anders shrugged. He resented being used in such a way, but he wouldn't have it hanging over his head if he could do something to prevent suffering.

Fenris stood. "Here or on the bed?"

A part of Anders wished Fenris wasn't so matter of fact about it. Then again, he reasoned, he wouldn't want it to be anything close to personal. He wouldn't want to pretend he was in a good situation, that he was about to enjoy a fun romp with someone he found attractive and interesting. There was nothing but danger down that pathway of thought. He needed to continue to remember that this was a temporary situation, and he was doing this only to make it a bit more bearable for the elf. Because he, Anders, was not a monster. He wasn't like Danarius, someone who derived pleasure from someone else's pain.

"Stand against the wall," Anders instructed. "I'm not going to undress," he informed him.

Fenris said nothing, but moved into place. Anders sighed, finished his wine, and walked over. Normally, an encounter like this would start with passionate kissing, maybe a tumble onto the bed. He'd actually shared a room with his last partner. That made things much more enjoyable, no sneaking out at night, hiding in abandoned classrooms or trying to stay quiet in the apprentice wing. They simply pushed the two single beds together to create a large mattress when they wanted to enjoy their free evenings. But to think about Nathaniel now would only depress him further. With another sigh, Anders got to his knees.

Fenris looked down at him. "You want to start-"

"Shut up," Anders snapped. "I know how to do it."

He could almost feel the elf smirking above him; no doubt he found this all so very amusing. After all, it wasn't _him_ on his knees about to perform. It was a moment as Anders looked at Fenris, the silvery lyrium in his skin swirling up his thighs to his hip bones. There was no real pattern to it, but it appeared to be symmetrical, the curls turning this way and that. The elf had very little hair to speak of, and he thought he remembered learning something about elves not being able to grow beards. With another sigh, he put his hands on either side of Fenris, flat against the wall, and took the elf's cock into his mouth. Thankfully, Fenris was quiet and did not offer any more helpful advice, nor put his hand to Anders' hair to guide him.

Slowly he felt Fenris harden under his ministrations, and there was a slight intake of breath as Anders licked up his shaft, tonguing the underside. He moved a hand to the base, only to have it seized by Fenris. He looked up, glaring as he pulled back.

"No hands until he orders it," Fenris warned.

Anders frowned. "Fine."

He tried to wrench his hand back, but Fenris's grip was ironclad, so he simply continued. Fenris wasn't as tightly controlled as Danarius, or perhaps Anders was just better at sucking cock than Fenris was. Above him, Fenris gasped quietly, though it was cut off at once as if he was afraid of making too much noise. Anders let his mind wander as he continued, thinking back to when he'd done this in the Circle in Ferelden. You had to learn to be quiet in Kinloch Hold, lest the Templars hear. Most wouldn't stop you, they'd simply watch. Which was more unnerving. It was always best not to get caught.

It was easy to think about other things as he pleasured the elf, the ache of his knees, his jaw. How he was going to escape. He'd need to remove the cuffs first and that meant figuring out what kind of magic they were imbued with. The library wasn't too far away from this room. Perhaps he could go when he wasn't needed. Was he ever not needed? Or would he be a prisoner, his world reduced to a tiny space when he wasn't with Danarius?

"Hands," Fenris said in a shaking breath.

Anders felt disgusted with himself for how easily he obeyed. He wrapped his fingers around the base of Fenris's cock and continued, mirroring what he saw Fenris do. Apparently Danarius was not very adventurous and preferred the same thing every night. That was fine; Anders had no desire to show either man any of his tricks he'd picked up over the years. Fenris was panting now, thigh muscles tightening. Anders wondered if Fenris ever had someone do this for him. If the elf even touched himself, or if he was trained not to. He didn't seem to be too much of a stranger to pleasure, but he clearly didn't have the stamina of someone who experienced it often.

"Stop!" Fenris said, shoving him back.

Not expecting that, Anders fell back, palms smacking hard on the floor to break his fall. "What?" he asked, licking his lips. He reached up and wiped his mouth with the back of his palm.

Fenris stood, still hard, chest heaving, looking away. "That's adequate."

Now Anders was extremely confused. "You didn't finish." Not that he should really care. If the elf wanted to suffer, he could suffer. Perhaps he even liked it.

"It's not a slave's place to focus on pleasure. This is purely for training and you are adequate," Fenris said in a rush.

Anders knew he shouldn't feel so put out by being called merely 'adequate'. But it was a point of pride for him to give his partners pleasure. Now he was conflicted. Shouldn't he be happy that's all there was? That Fenris would report to Danarius that he was 'adequate' and no longer required to demonstrate his ability? Part of him wanted to go back and pin Fenris to the wall and finish him, a little pinprick of pride. But he wouldn't. He stood, wiping his mouth again before returning to the wine bottle.

"Good," Anders said finally, and took a drink, swirling the weak wine around his mouth before swallowing. Fenris hadn't tasted any different from anyone else he'd ever had. In a way, he was almost disappointed, expecting the elf to taste of lyrium. "Glad that's over with."

"Quite."

Anders scoffed. "You got the better end of the deal, I think," he said, not looking at him.

"It gives me no pleasure to train the master's pets in-"

"I'm not a pet," Anders snarled, turning to look at him. "I'm not a slave, I'm not a pet, I'm not an apprentice. I'm a captive. A prisoner in this house until I can figure out how to get these Maker damned cuffs off!"

Fenris had not moved from his position against the wall, and he was looking at Anders with an almost puzzled expression.

"What?" Anders snapped, hating the weight of the elf's stare on him.

"It has been weeks," Fenris said carefully, brow furrowed. "And yet you remain obstinate."

"So?" Anders turned away and filled his cup to the brim. The light red liquid spilling over the top, his hand shaking slightly as he raised it to his lips and took a long swallow. He hadn't been able to get properly drunk since taking Justice into his soul. It was a cruel irony that he couldn't feel him now, and the wine was too weak to even have an effect.

"Most slaves are broken within a fortnight."

Anders turned, gesturing toward him with the cup. "I'm not most slaves. I'm not even _a_ slave." He paused in his irritation. "Are you going to stand there naked all night?"

Fenris stalked over, and despite his anger, Anders backed away. But Fenris hadn't approached with intent to strike. He watched the elf drink directly from the wine bottle, something clearly bothering him. They stood in silence, Anders sipping slowly, Fenris picking from the platter, taking the occasional swig from the bottle.

"I am going to bed," Fenris declared finally, once the food was gone and the wine finished.

"Are we roommates again tonight, then?" Anders asked, glancing at the door. He doubted anyone would come for him so late, and the door was likely locked. To be sure he checked, and found that he was right.

"Until our master says otherwise," Fenris said, and got into bed.

Anders stood awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment, then making up his mind, he set the cup down and walked over to the bed, looking down at Fenris.

Fenris slowly opened his eyes. "Yes?"

"If you help me, we can both escape," he said, watching Fenris carefully.

Fenris didn't react right away, and his expression did not change. Finally, he spoke. "Go to sleep, mage."

Anders knew Fenris had likely meant to sound annoyed or frustrated. But he thought there was something else to it. Fear. Fear of what, though? Fear of pain? Fenris seemed resigned to it. He didn't flinch from it. He took the lashings for Anders without complaint. It was something that was normal for him. 

Anders knelt down, looking at him eye level. "You could come with me. We can go anywhere. I was on my way to the Free Marches when I was picked up. We could go there."

Fenris drew the covers over his shoulder, then tugged them up to just below his eyes. "Go to sleep," he said again, muffled this time.

"I know why I'm not allowed to talk to the other slaves. It makes sense. Danarius is scared that I'll put the idea of rebellion and freedom in their heads. But he left me alone with you. It's obvious he trusts you, Fenris. He knows you wouldn't turn on him. Don't you see that's why it's such a good plan? He'll never expect it if you strike." Anders slowly drew the covers down and saw that Fenris was frowning. "Think about it. Your freedom."

"Freedom is no comfort. I have no desire to leave my role."

Anders shook his head. "You're just scared. If you learn to trust me, I'll make sure we both get out of here," he said quietly.

Fenris rolled over and tugged the covers back up. Anders stood, letting it be for now. He planted a seed, and he would work on that. It was a good plan. If Danarius was allowing him his healing magic, and Fenris took him by surprise, he could keep the elf alive as they cut a path through the mansion. It would take some doing. He would need maps, a route. They were on an island right now, he knew that much. They would need a boat to the mainland or…

He felt a nervous anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Or the Deep Roads. If there was an entrance on Serehon, if they went under the sea, they could reach the continent that way. As much as he hated to think about returning, they might even run into the Grey Wardens. And from there he could beg sanctuary. Even if it meant returning to Amaranthine or Vigil's Keep or going to a different outpost. He could start over from there. He would be freer with the Wardens than here in the Imperium. And they might even have the ability to remove his cuffs.

Feeling renewed that he had a plan, even if it was flimsy and depended quite a lot on an elf that was currently sulking under the covers like a child, Anders moved to the other side of the bed. As much as he hated the idea of sharing anything that could be consider intimacy with a fellow captive, he would be much better rested in a real bed than on the floor of a closet. 

Fenris looked at him in surprise when he crawled in next to him. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you offered to share," Anders said simply. He wriggled, uncomfortable in the tight smallclothes and vest, but it was better than lying in bed naked.

Fenris scowled. "If you're doing this in order to convince me-"

"I'm not," Anders assured him. Though perhaps that was a lie. If he could get Fenris to trust him more, it would hurry the process. His only worry was that Fenris would tell Danarius of the plan, then Danarius would likely cut his magic off again, possibly even completely. "Unless you'd rather I not?" he said, hoping to ease Fenris's annoyance. "In which case I can return to your closet, but it's a bit cold and cramped. Better array of sleeping garments, though. Tight leather isn't exactly very comfortable."

"Then strip," Fenris said, rolling over. There was a pause, then, "You may stay."

"How gracious of you. Don't worry, as soon as you tell Danarius I'm already trained up, he's likely going to send me back to my farce of a room. Talk about uncomfortable closets."

Fenris grunted.

"Are slaves allowed to even leave their rooms? Does he let them use the library at all?" Anders asked, unable to stop himself. His inquiries might annoy Fenris further and give him reason to tell Danarius first thing what he'd said.

Fenris turned back to look at him, an expression of extreme irritation. "Go to sleep, mage. I do not wish to listen to your prattling all night."

"It's just a question. No need to get defensive." It was the first time Anders had allowed himself to feel some genuine hope since being taken captive. The anger and injustice he felt over the last month had filled him up and now it burst like a weakened dam. And when he was excited, he talked. Perhaps it was cruel to subject Fenris to that, but having no one else, Anders pushed on. "So, the library?"

"Slaves do not read, mage. Prove yourself to be a good apprentice and perhaps he'll give you that allowance. But I suggest you throw away any notion of escaping. It's the quickest way to have your freedoms restricted. Or your head removed."

"Ah." Anders understood, of course. He'd figured it out already. Behave. Bow and obey and the looser your leash would get. He could pretend. It would be difficult – impossible, even. He was never good at pretending to be compliant. It was easier to speak his mind and take the punishments. But Tevinter was not Kinloch Hold. It wasn't Vigil's Keep. This was a new prison from which to escape, and he would have to develop new skills to make that happen.

And, he promised himself, if Fenris helped him, he would see to it that the elf was never shackled again.


	5. Chapter 5

Of course the next night Danarius wanted a demonstration. Both he and Fenris were brought before the magister, into a small parlor Anders had never seen before. He marveled for a minute at the dragon skeleton. It wasn't much larger than a dog, and Anders wondered as to its authenticity. He guessed it must have been real. Someone like Danarius didn't strike him as a person who'd be content with anything less. He watched Danarius settle himself in a large armchair and nausea bubbled in his stomach. Fenris stood next to him, impassive.

"Put on a show for me, then."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I'm not versed in vague commands." A show? What was Danarius talking about? He thought he was there to demonstrate his skill – at least that's what he assumed. He was learning, very slowly, that making an assumption around this man was turning out to not be the best idea.

_You forgot he's smart._

Danarius' lip curled. "Fenris."

Fenris bowed and turned to Anders. "He seeks compliance."

"Obviously, but-"

And Fenris reached up, cupping his face, and pulled him down for a kiss. Anders was so shocked that for a moment he did nothing. Soft fingers brushed against the stubble on his jaw, and the elf's mouth opened slightly, tongue flicking out. Confused, Anders returned the kiss. From the other side of the room, he heard Danarius's chuckle, and wanted to shoot a bolt of lightning at the man's face. He was pleased with Anders' embarrassment, likely getting off on it. Pervert.

Fenris pulled back. "He wishes a demonstration for the Satinalia celebration. You're the centerpiece."

"The what?"

"Compliance," Fenris said, and kissed him again.

It was hard to concentrate on anything as Fenris kissed him, hands now in his hair. Anders tried to think of what he meant by 'centerpiece.' He'd never been to a Satinalia celebration anywhere, let alone in Tevinter. Fenris was tugging him down now to his knees. Anders looked over to Danarius who was watching them closely, eyes narrowed, fingers steepled. So he was to put on a show for this man.

_Like the Templars in the Circle,_ a nasty voice spoke in the back of his mind. 

Fenris tugged at Anders' shirt, a simple white linen tunic that was too big for him, but by far the least revealing thing he'd been forced to wear. And now he was going to be relieved of it. Resigned to his fate for now, Anders allowed Fenris to take the lead. The elf would know what Danarius was looking for, and Anders hoped this would be the end of it. He closed his eyes as Fenris pulled him down for another kiss, long fingers buried in Anders' hair. It was difficult to enjoy any aspect of this, difficult to think about anything but Danarius watching their every move.

They broke apart, Fenris pulling his own shirt up over his head and tossing it aside. It was Anders who leaned forward this time to capture the elf's lips in a bruising kiss. He ignored the shuffling to his right, not wanting to know if Danarius was enjoying this or not. He tried to think of nothing but Fenris. Fenris who was in the same situation as himself. A captive, held against his will, being made to perform. Fenris who was… actually quite a very good kisser. Anders couldn't help a small whimper as the elf's tongue teased his own, warm hands on his chest, thumbs playing over his nipples.

_Just an act. A show._

Anders was determined not to enjoy himself, but it had been weeks since someone had kissed him like this. And he tried to remember that Fenris didn't want this any more than he did. That there was another man in the room, someone who orchestrated this whole thing and was watching; it was distracting, unnerving. But the heat of Fenris's kiss, the strength in his hands pulled Anders' attention back. He moved back, letting Fenris press him to the floor.

"Compliance," Fenris whispered, as his lips ghosted over Anders' ear. "And it will be over."

Anders let out a shaking breath, lifting his hips as Fenris pulled at the waistband to his pants. He was half-hard, much to his embarrassment. Disgusted with himself, he tried to think of something else. Ferelden in the fall, the way the leaves turned color in the countryside. The smell of apples in the orchard he'd found himself in. He was just eighteen, just escaped the Circle again. The farmer's daughter. She was older than him, so beautiful. Hair the color of chocolate spilling in curls over her shoulders, shining eyes in the sunrise. She'd been plump, with wonderful curves he'd explored every inch of as she rode him, her pretty skirts, sky blue, rucked up to her hips.

The memory washed away and Anders opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of Danarius's study. Fenris was giving instruction quietly, and he moved to comply. It was too cold in here, the carpet too hard despite its obvious richness. He rolled on top of Fenris, feeling the lithe form underneath him, the taught muscle. He dipped his head for another kiss, hoping to feel a spark, anything. Fenris was warm, his kiss adequate. It wasn't enough. He pulled back, sitting up.

"Continue," Danarius ordered.

"No," Anders said. "This-"

And quite suddenly he couldn't move. His eyes flicked to Fenris, and the elf's expression was one of terror, of concern. Realizing he was under Danarius's thrall, Anders tried to fight, tried to break the spell. He felt his chest constricting, tightening. He stood against his will, was made to walk to the other side of the room. He was a marionette, Danarius pulling the strings. Danarius said something in Tevene, and Fenris scrambled to his hands and knees.

_NO!_

But Anders couldn't speak. He struggled until his muscles screamed, but couldn't move. And now Danarius was waving his free hand. From the ground came not a desire demon, but something Anders had never seen before. He knew it was a demon from the foul aura. What was so disconcerting was that it looked human. It took the form of a tall man, muscled and tanned, oiled skin all shimmery, wearing nothing but a tattered loincloth. Anders inhaled and let out a shuddering breath. To his horror, he found he was hard, an overwhelm neediness filling him up.

_Lust._

Of course, a demon of lust. They wanted little from humans, taking what they could in dreams and leaving teenagers with sticky sheets after. They were always seemingly very innocuous, much like sloth demons. But any demon could be manipulative, and lust demons were no exception. Anders watched as Fenris shivered, the lust demon moving behind him down. It knelt, kissing along the elf's spine, running its fingertips down his back so gently like a careful lover.

Danarius uttered two words, and the demon moved aside his loincloth, revealing a large, oiled phallus. In a swift, vicious motion, he thrust into Fenris, the elf screaming out in pain, falling forward. He tried to scrabble up, but the lust demon had his hips in a crushing grip, using him now as little more than an object. Anders fought against the spell holding him in place, tried to cast his own magic, but Danarius held him there, forcing him to keep his eyes open and watch.

Anders couldn't see Fenris's face, but heard his cries, muted though they were as if Fenris were trying to stay quiet. Streaks of blood coated his thighs, rivulets of scarlet coming to pool at the back of his knees. His nails dug into the carpet, and Anders could hear them scraping against the wool with each thrust. The lust demon cackled, head thrown back as it fucked Fenris faster now. Danarius gave another command. Without leaving Fenris, the lust demon pivoted, tossing the elf like a rag doll. He reached up, his hand humanoid aside from the claws now, and grabbed Fenris's hair, yanking him back brutally.

Anders gasped. He could see Fenris's face now, wishing he couldn't. Tears streaked down his cheeks, his eyes half-lidded and deadened. They widened slightly with every thrust, every movement a gasp of pain escaping his lips. The demon dropped him, and Fenris fell back to the carpet, landing on his elbows. Another thrust, then another, and the demon finally spent, pulling back and spraying an inhuman amount of semen all over Fenris's thighs and the small of his back. It seemed to sizzle and steam, and Anders felt his stomach clench. He retched, and Danarius let him go. He felt to his knees and vomited.

The demon vanished, and Danarius tutted. "Next time," he said, "I do hope you'll be ready to show me what you've learned." He crossed between the two of them and the door shut with a soft click as he closed it behind him.

Alone now with Fenris, Anders scrambled for his shirt before hurrying to Fenris's side. "I'm so sorry," he managed. "I'm so… I didn't…"

Fenris said nothing, lying on his stomach, face curled into the crook of his arm. Anders saw his back rise and fall steadily with every breath. There was a very faint, very quiet shuddering sob, and his heart broke.

_It's your fault. It's all your fault. Because you wouldn't listen._

He pushed the thought aside and slowly, carefully wiped away the blood and semen. Fenris shuddered, a noise of pain as Anders got too close to the wound.

"I'm sorry!" he said quickly.

The cuffs did not hamper his healing magic, and Anders poured his energy into the spell. He used perhaps too much, but his mana pool was barely tapped into by the time the damage was healed. With everything he'd experienced, a torn rectum was hardly a challenge to be fixed physically. The soreness he could expel with another simple spell. But the psychological damage, that couldn't be fixed with a mere wave of his fingers. He folded the shirt and continued to clean the mess from Fenris's thighs and back, hesitating when Fenris twitched away from his touch.

"Fenris," he said quietly. And when Fenris said nothing, he reached out, touching his shoulder. "Fenris."

"Leave it."

The voice was broken, hollow. Anders pursed his lips, sitting back on his heels, looking at Fenris's back. Fenris curled up on his side, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around himself, seeking comfort. They stayed like that for a long time, Anders wishing he could do something, say something to fix it. He had no idea what to do.

The door opened, and it was the cook's son. "Master says you're both to go to bed now."

"Just give us a minute," Anders said quietly.

"He says that if you don't go now, it'll be worse for you both in the morning."

Anders pulled on his pants, tossing his shirt away. Let Danarius get someone to deal with that. He put a hand on Fenris's arm, slightly relieved when Fenris didn't fight him. He was obedient, limp, as Anders dressed him and pulled him to his feet. He wrapped an arm around his waist and half-carried him out, down the hall and up the servant's staircase. It was the only place that wasn't decorated in lavish tapestries and sculptures, and thankfully deserted for the moment. He pushed open the door to Fenris's room. The fire was lit and a basin of water and a pile of towels sat on the small table. 

Anders carefully deposited him onto the bed, and knelt down, looking up at him. "Fenris," he said, taking his hands. "Will… I can bathe you. And take away the residual soreness. Okay?"

Fenris looked at him, green eyes dull and staring. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and Anders squeezed his hand before going to the basin.

"Undress and lie on your stomach," Anders ordered. 

He would be as clinical as possible. He'd never had to assist with something like this before. All his patients had been battle-worn. Sword or dagger wounds, an arrow that somehow snaked its way past the armor. Burns. Lots of burns when apprentices were practicing their fireballs. Never this. And while wounds of the flesh were simply that, he was no healer of the mind. There was no magic that could undo the memory of that trauma, not unless Anders wanted to permanently damage his brain. He knew blood magic could alter memories, but he wasn't about to try. He'd had enough demons to last him a lifetime. The water was warmed with a spell and he dipped the towel edge in before returning to Fenris, who'd done as he requested.

"Lift your hips."

He slid a folded towel under Fenris to catch the excess water as he started to wash him properly, returning to the basin to rinse the towel every few minutes. Fenris shuddered whenever Anders' hand slipped and touched his skin, and let out a whimper when he got too close to the swell of his bottom.

"Fenris," he said gently. "I need to…" He paused, not quite sure how to continue.

Fenris seemed to understand. He kept his head down, pulling his pillow close to bury his face into it as he got to his knees. Anders was as gentle as he could be, making sure he'd healed every tear, as well as the bruises on his hips. When he was done, he dried him off and tossed the towels aside. Fenris immediately pulled the blanket up over himself.

"Fenris," Anders whispered.

"Don't touch me."

"I wasn't going to. I just... I am so sorry." He hated feeling guilty. It wasn't his fault. It was Danarius who decided to summon the demon. Danarius who made these stupid rules of punishment, and Danarius who held them captive.

"Go to sleep."

Anders sighed and got into bed, careful to stay as far away from Fenris as possible. He didn't want to accidentally touch him and cause him more pain. He'd seen demon summonings, fought them, suffered through his own Harrowing. He knew what strife they could cause, but this was the first time he'd ever seen anything like that. Watching Fenris receive the lashes was difficult, but Fenris had taken them almost silently, as if he'd simply gotten used to them. Numb to the pain of it. But the lust demon, that was something else. Fenris… Fenris had cried. Cursing his stupidity, Anders got out of bed once more and picked up a clean cloth. He dipped the edge in the water and walked around to the other side of the bed, kneeling.

"Fenris."

The covers were drawn up, over his head. "Go to sleep," he said again.

Anders reached up and slowly pulled them away. "Let me wash your face."

Fenris opened his eyes, glaring down at him, though the curve of his lips softened the look. He was angry, but scared. "I am not a child who needs to be coddled, mage."

"Maybe not," Anders agreed. "But you'd sleep better if your face was cleaned."

"I would, or you would?"

"Both," Anders admitted. "I feel… I feel responsible for what happened. And I'm sorry. I never should have… I should have just done what Danarius wanted. And then this wouldn't have happened. Please."

Fenris's brow furrowed as he looked at Anders. "Fine," he said finally. "If only to get you to leave me alone."

Anders reached up, brushing the white hair back, out of Fenris's face, tucking a few strands behind a long, pointed ear. Fenris shut his eyes tightly as Anders gently washed the dried tears from his cheeks. Unable to help himself, he let a finger play over the thin white lines on his chin. Fenris's eyes shot open.

"Sorry," Anders said, dropping his hand. He stood, tossing the cloth back to the basin and got back into bed.

"It doesn't hurt," Fenris said, so quietly that Anders wasn't sure he'd spoken.

Anders lay on his side, watching the rise and fall of the blanket as Fenris breathed. "What doesn't?" he asked finally.

"When you touch my markings."

"Do they normally?" Anders asked. He slid his hand across the gap between them, hesitated, and pulled the covers down slowly. The markings swirled around his shoulder blades, and Anders gently touched one.

Fenris flinched. "When a mage does it."

"But not me."

"So it would seem."

Anders traced the circular pattern from the back of Fenris's neck, over his shoulder, then let his hand drop to the mattress. "Possibly because Danarius has me shackled, as you put it. Perhaps they don't respond to my magic like they do to his."

It was a minute or two before Fenris rolled over, facing Anders now. "Why did you…"

Anders frowned. "What? Why did I heal you? For the same reason I heal anyone. It's not right to let people suffer if something can be done about it. Well," he amended, "innocent people. If Danarius lay dying I think I might just step over him and continue on my way. Possibly give him an extra kick to the ribs."

Fenris did not smile, but the tension seemed to ease from his face. His brow unfurrowed, lips parting slightly. "Mage-"

"Anders," he said firmly, and reached over once more, this time to take Fenris's hand. "Regardless of If you're going to help me or not. It doesn't matter. In this situation, maybe it's just best to have a friend. Someone who you don't have to step on eggshells around. I can't say I trust you and I wouldn't blame you if you couldn't trust me. But for now… maybe it would…" 

Anders sighed. It was all very stupid. It had been a very long, painful day for the both of them, and here he was bouncing from one emotion to the next when it came to Fenris. But he had never felt so alone before. In the Circle, he had other mages who were just as frustrated as he was, he had Mr. Wiggums. On the run, as long as he didn't show his hand, there were people who would help him. In the Wardens, he had Nathaniel and Ser Pounce-a-lot. And then Justice. For the first time in a long time, he truly felt on his own. And here he was, begging another slave for companionship. It was pathetic.

Fenris gripped his hand. "It's never a good idea to get too close. Things… end badly."

"Someone just to talk to. But I understand."

"Anders."

Anders smiled slightly. "Yes?"

"Go to sleep."

Fenris rolled over, pulling the blanket back up over his head, and Anders sighed. But, as he fell asleep, he thought maybe he'd gotten through to the elf, if only a little bit.


	6. Chapter 6

It was two weeks before Danarius asked them to demonstrate once more. Two weeks of watching Fenris go through his exercises every morning. Of healing his sore muscles, taking meals with him, talking quietly, telling stories. Of waiting for him to get back from his duties to Danarius in the early afternoon. Anders for his part had mostly been left in the small room. He felt himself going slowly crazier with every day that passed. For hours at a time he'd be left alone, then given an outfit and brought to dinner to kneel at Danarius's side. Every evening he wondered if he'd be made to put on a show, but it was starting to become so very routine, so very…

_Normal._

And that's what frightened Anders. He was getting used to it. He would watch Fenris pour wine for the guests, sometimes dressed in a simple tunic and pants, other times in full armor with a sword strapped to his back. It all depended on who was with them. One evening it would be a full dining room with other slaves, and the next it would be a quiet meal between Danarius and two other senators. Every night Anders knelt quietly, eating whatever Danarius fed to him. It bothered him that the food was delicious and he actually looked forward to it. Later in the night, he would recoil in horror as he recalled that he'd actually licked the gravy from Danarius's well-manicured fingertips.

He had to get out. It was weeks since he'd seen the outside, actually been in the sun. And most days he found himself shoving the table against the wall to pull himself up to the small window just to look out at the large backyard, the blue lake. He ached to be out there, to go for a swim, to run in the grass. His world had been reduced to this small room, the hall, and the dining room.

The door opened, and he was relieved to see Alana. The elf had been by every morning to bring them food and clothing and to collect Fenris. Today, she was leading two other elves who carried in a tub almost full to the brim. They set it down, and Alana set aside some bathing essentials.

"What's this?" he asked. "Where's Fenris? Is he coming back? Are we going to attend supper?"

He hated how eager he sounded, but Fenris had left early that morning and he'd not seen him all day. In fact, he'd been alone. Usually by now the elf would return and they'd talk before it was time to see Danarius. Not that Anders looked forward to seeing Danarius, but he hated to be alone. It was the few hours after waking that stretched into the early afternoon that he truly found himself missing Justice. If nothing else, the spirit was good for a chat.

"Bathe. Dress. Demonstration," she said, in halting words, her Tevene accent thick and difficult to understand.

"Demonstration?" Anders asked, but Alana was already leaving, the other two elves going with.

_Oh._

He frowned, looking over the towels and soaps. It had been several days since he had a proper wash, and although he'd done nothing but pace the room like a caged animal, he knew he must not have smelled as fresh as a daisy. Still, there was a bit of anxiety as he heated the water, stripped, and climbed in. If he didn't perform well enough tonight, Fenris might end up suffering because of it. He couldn't let that happen. Fenris was still very much a part of his plan, even though the elf hadn't agreed to anything yet. He made the situation bearable, took away the loneliness. And Anders would be damned if he was going to let Danarius hurt him again.

Anders scrubbed until his skin was red and raw, then washed his hair, getting out the tangles. It was getting too long, almost brushing his shoulders now. And when he reached for a towel to dry his face, he saw it. A straight edge razor. Beyond that, a shaving brush and a pot of cream for his face. He wiped his face and peered at the items through the steam from the tub. A razor. He could pocket it. Wait until Danarius was comfortable. Slit the man's throat. Couldn't he? His heart started beating rapidly, mouth dry. It was a bold plan. Daring. But he still didn't know the fastest way out of the mansion. He still might get caught. But he would have a weapon. The door opened and he quickly looked away, as if his gaze would betray his thoughts.

"You're not ready yet."

Anders let out a breath and looked back at Fenris. "Almost." He reached for the brush and applied the cream to his face, a bit sloppily without a mirror.

"Here."

The elf, dressed still in the black pants and sleeveless tunic he'd put on in the morning, crossed the room and picked up the razor. Anders felt the hesitation in his own muscles, the fear that Fenris could drag that blade so easily across his throat. He swallowed hard, but Fenris did no such thing. He moved with precision, with skill. Apparently his talent with all things sharp didn't stop with the large two handed sword he usually kept at his side or on his back. And Anders wondered if he did this for Danarius as well. The man's grey beard was always well-trimmed and perfectly kept. He felt a coil of jealousy and quickly shoved it away, not wanting to dwell on that feeling, not wanting to know where it came from.

It was over quickly, and Fenris handed him a towel. "Come. Master is waiting."

Anders climbed out of the tub and dried off, toweling his hair so that it hung in damp locks framing his face. He dressed in the cream colored tunic and pants, which mirrored Fenris's own, light to dark. "Alana said something about a demonstration…"

Fenris nodded. "Tonight. Now. He's invited someone to watch-"

Anders scowled. "So we're to put on a performance for Danarius and for a guest."

"You've met her. Mistress Hadriana."

Anders knew of her. To say they'd 'met' would be something of an exaggeration. Danarius had not introduced them. Slaves, after all, were not afforded that privilege. In fact, the only one who called Anders by his name now was Fenris, and even he seemed more comfortable addressing him simply as 'mage'. Hadriana, from what Anders remembered, was what the Tevinters called Laetan. A mage born to non-mage parents, and she'd been trying to climb the social ladder ever since she was a teenager. And succeeding too, if she managed to achieve more than one audience with Danarius.

"Very well. I suppose we'll just have to deal with that." He wouldn't let it bother him. One night of this and he could put it behind himself. No more waiting and wondering when Danarius would make him dance again. A sudden thought struck him as he tied the laces to his pants. "Fenris, once this is over, will we…"

"We should hurry. He'll be waiting."

Anders followed Fenris out, a little tentative. It was the first time he was in the mansion since the night with the lust demon that he went without Danarius leading him. In a way it was relieving, the restrictions on his freedom lifted. However, a very small part of him felt trepidation. He felt ashamed almost at once for that anxiety. He'd been on his own before, and that was in the Fereldan countryside, which was much larger than a grand estate. If he was going to escape, he'd need to pay attention to the layout of the mansion.

"Will we be separated once this is over?" Anders managed to ask, just as they reached the parlor doors.

Fenris gave him an inscrutable look before turning to the door, knocking once and entering, shutting the door behind them. Anders followed him in, and they both knelt before Danarius, who sat in an armchair, sipping a glass of wine. Hadriana stood, leaning against the mantle, looking at the fire. She turned her icy blue eyes on them a moment later, and Anders remembered to keep his head down, hands on his thighs like a good submissive slave.

"Good," Danarius said. "I see you used the gifts I gave you."

Gifts? And suddenly Anders realized Danarius meant the tub and bathing effects. "Yes, Master, thank you," he said, unsure if that was right or not.

But Danarius seemed pleased with the response, and Anders relaxed just a little. "Hadriana, you may want to take a seat. My little wolf has told me they've been practicing day and night, so this should be quite the show."

Anders didn't look at Fenris, but he couldn't stop himself from the feeling of surprise. He and Fenris had barely done more than touch long enough for Anders to heal his aches from his training, or patch up small wounds from the sparring grounds. On occasion, since the bed they slept in wasn't overly large, they would end up lying close to one another. Anders had woken one morning to find himself spooning Fenris, and quickly pulled away before the elf could wake up and comment sarcastically, as he was wont to do. Apparently Fenris lied to Danarius, proclaiming that they'd practiced. He felt a slight thrill of hope at what this information might mean for his plan.

"Thank you," Hadriana said, settling herself in a loveseat against the far wall. She arranged her robes and sat back, crossing her legs. "Your Satinalia displays are always the most impressive, Master Danarius. I'm honored to have a preview."

"Of course you are." Then, to Anders and Fenris, "Begin."

Anders was ready this time. Though he was being forced, somehow it seemed less of an issue now than previously. Perhaps that was Danarius's intention. Let him get close to Fenris, get comfortable with him. And of course use the fear of punishment, of guilt, should he not perform well. Whatever it was, when he took Fenris's face in his hands and kissed him, it was easier than had been before. He closed his eyes and felt his friend's lips part easily for him. Anders tentatively touched his tongue to Fenris's, sighing as he was allowed entrance.

Strong hands gripped his waist, warm through the thin fabric, and as Fenris dragged his fingertips up, lifting the shirt, the rest of the room seemed to melt away. They parted only to drop tunics on the ground and resumed the kiss, almost hungrily this time. Anders felt the shame settling heavily in his chest as he realized that he was enjoying the touches, the kiss. It was simply supposed to be a show, a demonstration of his skill, a means to an end. But as long as he had to go through with it anyway, why shouldn't he enjoy himself a little?

Fenris's hands were on his back, and Anders arched into his touch as they kissed. The need to feel his friend closer to him was overwhelming, and he pressed him back, taking the lead now. Fenris bent to the thick carpet, letting out a soft sigh as Anders moved over top of him. Two thin pairs of linen pants separated them, though Anders was careful not to crush him as he settled his weight. The thought was laughable – Fenris could likely sling him over his shoulder and run for miles, with how strong the elf was. Anders grinned into the kiss, but said nothing. It was odd how that thought amused him in this situation, so close to hopelessness.

"Compliance," he found himself whispering in Fenris's ear as he nuzzled, then licked the way up to the pointed tip.

Fenris arched underneath him, groin coming up to grind against his hip. Anders felt the hard length there. He'd seen Fenris's cock dozens of times in the past few weeks. Nudity was nothing to a slave, and Fenris seemed to lack all shame when it came to being within those four walls of their shared room. However, it was rare that Anders had seen him erect. His hand slid almost of its own accord down Fenris's chest, his side, over his hip, fingers curling into the waistband of his pants. His lips trailed hot kisses down his jawline, to his neck, stopping to bite at his collarbone. One strong hand curled in Anders' hair, and Anders could hear the other gripping the carpet.

"Easy," Anders breathed, moving down, capturing a dark pink nipple with his teeth, before releasing it.

He flicked his tongue against the hardening nub, then sucked viciously. Fenris gasped, thrusting against him. For Anders, there was nothing but his friend underneath him. Someone he'd protect from another punishment, another beating, another rape. Fenris wouldn't have to endure that, not if he had anything to say about it. When he was finished sufficiently teasing one, he moved to the other. Fenris's hand tightened in his hair, and he felt the pressure on the back of his head, silently urging him for more, to suck harder, to bite, to hurt. Anders listened to the subtle cues, and almost laughed when Fenris let out a quiet cry.

Anders slid his other hand down as he licked and kissed a wet trail down Fenris's stomach, tongue dipping into his navel. He held him loosely, thumbs stroking firmly over his hip bones, teasing below the waistband. He nuzzled Fenris through the thin linen pants, pleased with the gasp he managed to elicit. Fenris lifted his hips and Anders very slowly pulled the fabric down. He smirked, leaning down and nuzzling again but at his hip this time. He heard Fenris above him, a frustrated groan, and continued to kiss and nip his hips, thighs, moving down to his knee, tossing his pants aside as Fenris kicked them away. His legs spread wide, and his hands moved toward his cock as if he was going to stroke himself.

"No," Anders said, seizing his wrists, pinning them to his side. He leaned up to look at him, pleased to see that Fenris's eyes were wide, pupils dilated, looking at him in earnest. "I've got you."

Fenris nodded, and Anders moved back down, releasing his wrists. There was a slight hesitation, then Fenris threaded his fingers through Anders' still damp hair, pushing it back out of his face. Anders finally took pity on him, and holding his hips down, licked the underside of his cock from base to tip. Fenris gasped, trying to arch into it, but Anders held him tightly. Even though it had been a long time since he'd done this properly, Anders remembered how it felt to have a willing partner underneath him or against a wall as he sucked them to completion. A few weeks ago it didn't count. Fenris had hardly been more willing than he had and it was cold, mechanical almost. This was different.

"Ngh," from Fenris as Anders resumed his focus.

"I've got you," Anders whispered again as he steadied the base of Fenris's cock.

He kept his eyes on Fenris, who was trying to watch, head lifting off the ground as Anders took him into his mouth. His tongue worked the slit, the tang of precome bringing back a certain muscle memory. He closed his eyes now, hearing Fenris's head fall to the carpet with a thump as he swirled his tongue around the soft flesh. Encouraged by the quiet noises of wanting, he descended slowly, keeping his lips tucked carefully around his teeth. With slow, deliberate motions he pulled back and moved down again. The hands in his hair tightened every time he lifted, and he chuckled, causing Fenris to swear in a language Anders couldn't understand.

Anders reached up, fingers ghosting a nipple as he continued his motion. Finally he touched Fenris's lips, and was pleased when the elf took his finger in, sucking greedily on it. Anders swallowed unconsciously, trying to stop himself from drooling and Fenris's hips snapped up. He gagged slightly and winced when Fenris bit his finger, and pulled back with both.

"Buh…" Fenris managed and looked down, breathing heavily.

"It's okay," Anders assured him.

He pushed back one of Fenris's well-muscled thighs and slid his wet finger behind his sac, pressing entrance at his hole. Fenris grunted, head dropping back to the carpet once more. Anders leaned down, smirking at Fenris's sharp intake of breath as he very carefully pulled the elf's sac into his mouth. He flicked his tongue against one ball, sucking ever so gently before releasing, then moving to the other, finger working inside the entire time. Fenris's hips rocked forward slowly, one hand reaching for something to hold onto. Anders met it with his own and held tight. He spat, wishing for some other lubricant, something slicker, and tried to reach for the magic that would give it to him, disappointed when received nothing.

Not to be deterred, he moved back up, dragging Fenris's hand back to his hair where the elf gripped, tugging on it. Anders was only too glad that his own pain threshold on his scalp was very high for this very reason. Nathaniel almost made him bald with the nights they'd spent together. Two fingers of one hand buried deep inside his friend now, he resumed his earlier motion. Cock slick with saliva, Anders was able to ease the friction, moving head and hand together up and down as he thrust his fingers, curling them up. Fenris gasped.

"Oh… oh, Nn.. please… there," he whispered.

Anders knew he was trying to be quiet, trying not to lose that carefully tight-knit self-control. His own jaw ached, hand cramping slightly, but he was determined to uncoil him, to let the spring come loose. He pressed forward, fingers curling again, finding that tiny bundle of soft nerves. Fenris's fingers scraped at the carpet, other hand pressing Anders' head down as he pushed forward. There was a thump as the elf's head lifted and dropped to the carpet again hard enough that Anders was sure there would be a lump on the back of his skull. He chuckled and that seemed to undo Fenris, who thrust up once, then again before Anders felt the hot saltiness fill his mouth. He sucked hard, swallowing it all before pulling back, removing his fingers slowly. Fenris twitched, lying boneless and breathless before him. Anders smirked, feeling the sense of accomplishment he always did after making a lover come undone. It was pride; pride and lust, two sins the Circle always warned against when it came to demons. He never paid any attention to those lessons anyway.

He was about to reach down, to kiss Fenris, to let him taste himself, when he heard shuffling from across the room. Danarius. Of course. Danarius and Hadriana. They'd watched the entire time, and for once it was easy to forget they were there. Anders had almost convinced himself that this was enjoyable, that he was having fun with a friend and not locked up like a prisoner and forced into the act. Fenris was allowed a few seconds of recovery before he remembered himself. He got to his knees, catching his breath, a thin sheen of sweat on his chest and forehead as he lowered his eyes. Anders felt his own aching cock between his legs and steadfastly ignored it. The demonstration was about giving pleasure, not getting it.

"Yes," Danarius purred. He stood and approached, and Anders just managed not to flinch as the man reached down to pet them both. "I am pleased. You will do well as the centerpiece of the celebration. Both of you."

Anders felt a sick twisting in his stomach. He needed to get out before then, or Danarius was going to make them perform again. Only this time, he had a feeling it would be for a much larger audience.


	7. Chapter 7

"He's giving you a boon for a job well done."

Anders sat on the edge of the bed, watching Fenris undress and go through his nighttime exercises. Alana had cleared the room earlier, changed the sheets and left a basin, soap and towel, along with a small plate of food. It was back to routine, then. They'd been walked back to the room by Danarius, who stroked their hair, petting them like dogs and praising them in a similar manner before making sure they were locked in for the night. But not before he said something to Fenris in Tevene. And once they were alone, Anders asked.

"A boon. I suppose I couldn't ask for my freedom."

"You could," Fenris said, grunting as he brought himself into a sitting position. "But I doubt he'd allow it. You're too valuable."

Anders moved to the floor. Though his earlier erection was gone, he still felt a slight ache, and wondered how awkward it would be to have a wank with Fenris still there. He knelt down in front of him and held his ankles to make the sit-ups easier. Fenris nodded his thanks and continued.

"I suppose I should consider it a compliment," Anders said. "Too valuable to lose. Makes a change from the Circle or the Wardens. They just wanted me back because they thought they owned me." He frowned. Wasn't that the same as here? Danarius thought he owned Anders. But the Warden-Commander showed him no affection, and though he had friends in the Circle who were fond of him, it wasn't quite the same. "You lied to Danarius."

"I did no such thing," Fenris said simply as he came up again.

"You did," Anders pressed, leaning up to look down at him. "You told him we practiced every night."

"Which is not technically a lie. You were able to become comfortable which made you perform better, did it not?"

Anders frowned, settling back on his heels. "So it was all an act then?" He felt sick. Had Fenris only pretended to like him? Shared stories with him just to lure him into a sense of security?

"All we ever do is an act, mage. We are slaves, it is our role."

Anders stood up, releasing his ankles and walked to the far end of the room. He ended up near the closet, where he felt at least a little safe. Fenris sat up, looking at him, frowning.

"A role," Anders said, unsure why he felt so angry, so betrayed. Did he actually believe Fenris was a friend? Yes. "So everything you've said, all the things we discussed – that meant nothing?"

The frown deepened, Fenris's dark brow furrowing. He looked confused. "No. I… enjoy speaking with you."

"You're not making any sense. Either it's an act or you enjoy it. It can't be both."

"Can it not?" Fenris asked, standing. He wasn't finished with his routine, but apparently their discussion had put him off the exercise. He moved to the basin to wash up. "Didn't you tell me that in the Circle you could pretend on some days what it was like to be free?"

"That's different."

"Is it?"

Anders crossed his arms, looking down. He curled his toes in the threadbare carpet, thinking. In the Circle, he _could_ pretend that they were free. Close his eyes and feel the wind on his face. Spend time in an abandoned room with a fellow apprentice, enjoy a few moments of peace before being brought back to the reality of it.

"I never lied to any of my friends in the Circle," he said finally. "I didn't pretend to like them to make them feel better."

Fenris sighed, gripping the metal edges of the basin, looking at his reflection in the water. "I did not lie, mage."

Anders huffed.

"Anders," Fenris acquiesced, looking over at him. "I… enjoy the time we have together, but our time is not our own. It is our Master's. It's not a good idea to pretend otherwise. Too many slaves have fallen prey to the idea of freedom and end up hurting worse when they realize they cannot leave."

"But you've accepted it."

"I've accepted my role, ma- Anders. Nothing more."

Anders looked up, taking a tentative step forward. "But you want a different role."

Fenris looked away from him, shoulders hunched as he rocked a bit on his heels. "It's not for me to decide that."

"There's nothing wrong with just wanting it to be different. Even if you don't think you can change it." He took another few steps, walking slowly toward him.

"But what's the point?"

"That one day," Anders said, reaching out, "We might be able to get out of here." He laid a hand on Fenris's trembling shoulder. "I don't… have anyone here, Fenris. I… when I escaped the Circle, the time before I broke free forever, they locked me into solitary confinement. I never quite got used to being alone."

"Master knows it."

Anders frowned. "He's looked into my past?"

Fenris nodded. "He receives letters. I've listened. I'm not supposed to have told you. He knows what will break you."

So the two weeks he spent mostly alone aside from the dinners were planned. Anders should have known that. He let his hand fall from Fenris's shoulder and started to turn when the elf grabbed his wrist. 

"I'm not giving up," Anders said quietly. "I'll accept my role. For now. But I'm leaving. With or without your help."

Fenris pulled him back around. "You'll die trying."

"I won't. I've escaped places before. I can get out of this one. It just may take a bit longer than I originally planned. But I won't give up."

"And if you manage," Fenris breathed. "Then…"

Anders understood, the fear in the elf's eyes, the slight tremble. Fenris was terrified. He might have thought it was just an act, but the carefully constructed armor was slipping. Fenris had never been forced into the role of teacher, to instruct others how to be a slave. This was as much a test for him as it was for Anders. "If you want to come with me, I won't leave you behind," he promised. "But that's your decision, Fenris. And once we're out, if you wanted to stay with me… My offer stands. We could go to the Free Marches. To Kirkwall. There are plenty of places to hide."

"I…"

"Don't answer now," Anders said. Fenris tended to freeze whenever the idea of freedom was mentioned. He reached up and cupped the elf's face. "But think about it. You could change your role." He paused, then leaned in and brushed his lips to Fenris's.

Fenris returned the kiss, such a small, chaste thing, but it seemed to calm him. He released Anders's wrist and instead took him around the waist. Anders frowned – Fenris wasn't one to initiate contact unless it was necessary, demanding. But he stepped into the hug all the same, wrapping his arms around the elf's slim shoulders. Maker, how long had it been since he'd simply hugged someone? He'd forgotten how good this one simple act of comfort felt.

"It's not an act for me," Anders said, realizing. "You're… it's not fair because we were forced together in these circumstances. But I do consider you a friend."

"You shouldn't," Fenris said, pulling away. "It's dangerous. Once our master realizes, if he even suspects an inkling of… of affection or anything, he'll see to it that your happiness is crushed. Slaves don't deserve that."

"People deserve it," Anders said. "And no one deserves to be enslaved."

Fenris stepped away entirely now and climbed into bed. Anders realized the conversation was over. Fenris tended to retreat to the bed the way a dog would slink under a table if yelled at. It was difficult to get him to talk after, and Anders was too tired to even try to argue. Instead, he climbed into bed next to him and closed his eyes, trying not to think about the roles of a slave and how difficult the task before him was. The cuffs felt tight around his wrists, and he flexed his fingers, testing the snaps of electricity. No more than a few sparks.

A hand shot out, covering his own, and gripped. Anders raised an eyebrow, looking over at Fenris, who was staring at him wide-eyed. His markings glowed with a dull luminescence, and Anders thought he understood.

"Do they hurt?" he asked apologetically. "I was just testing the cuffs."

"They don't… hurt exactly."

Anders frowned and took Fenris's hand, entwining their fingers as he relaxed, turning to his side. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Fenris nodded and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, the markings dimmed to their usual flat white, and Anders watched Fenris finally calm down. His face untightened, the frown disappearing. Fingers uncurled, and Anders smiled when the elf finally rolled over to his stomach, which seemed to be his preferred sleeping position. Eventually he too drifted off to asleep.

-

It was a lovely dream. Warm in bed, some nameless, faceless lover on top of him, kissing him, moving down to wake him with a good morning blowjob. He groaned, feeling a warm wet mouth on his cock, licking quite expertly, and he didn't want to open his eyes. Sleep amnesia held him in place for the moment, groggy as he swayed halfway in some Fade dream and halfway into consciousness. The comforting weight of Fenris next to him was gone, a cold spot on the sheets forced him to wake and he realized belatedly that the dream wasn't a dream.

"Oh Maker," he sighed, reaching down. His hand landed on the back of Fenris's head, fingers moving to touch the delicate tip of his ear. He would worry later as to why his friend chose to wake him in such a way, and for now simply spread his legs, arching up into that talented mouth. "Fenris… fuck…"

He looked down, moving the blanket aside so he could watch. Fenris was moving slowly, head dipping, tongue swirling. Anders swallowed hard, trying to keep his eyes open against the sensation but couldn't. Head thrown back now he arched up again, trying to bury himself deep in that mouth. He gripped the soft white hair, trying not to shove his head further down. Fenris seemed to get the hint regardless and Anders felt himself buried to the hilt.

"Oh sweet Andraste, please," he begged, toes curling, fists clenching.

He felt Fenris's throat constrict around him as the elf swallowed, and cried out when he moved back, a breath of cool air over his shaft, causing him to shudder. And suddenly the mouth was gone. He whimpered, looking down, wondering why, and almost at once he arched again, warm mouth on his sac, sucking lightly. Anders saw the headboard as his back bowed and his hand left Fenris's hair to grip onto the wood. He wanted more, needed more. He wanted Fenris to fuck him, but more than that, he just wanted to come.

"Please," he repeated, unsure of what he was asking, just that he wanted more of it.

And Fenris's mouth was back on him, hand gripping tightly as he pumped, lips moving around the sensitive head. Anders' pleas caught in the back of his throat and he made a strangled sound, hips thrusting once and again before he felt the waves of pleasure rush over him, warm and inviting. He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered, leg kicking out as he shuddered and came.

"Ngh. Don't," he said, arms like jelly as he tried to get Fenris to stop milking him. His cock twitched and he whined, sensitive to even the slightest touch. "No more," he managed, though it was muffled.

He felt the bed shift as Fenris's weight left it, springs creaking in protest. Anders finally opened his eyes, looking around for him. Fenris started his exercises, stretching his limbs almost as if nothing had happened. Once he could move again, Anders pulled his pants back up over his hips and rolled to his side. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, then stretched, feeling better than he had since being purchased. _Being taken prisoner,_ he reminded himself.

"Thank you," he said, because it seemed to be the right thing to say.

"Mm."

Anders watched Fenris drop to start performing his pushups. "Should I ask why?"

"If you wish."

"You're impossible to talk to sometimes," he sighed, though with less irritation than he might have. "Fine then. Why?"

"Because I wanted to."

Anders thought about this. Fenris had previously lied to Danarius. And now he was taking initiative, doing things because he wanted to do them, not because he was ordered to. Slaves shouldn't want anything; that had been Fenris's mentality since Anders knew him. Perhaps… maybe their talks leading up to last night, and last night especially had brought Fenris around to thinking that Anders was right. That they could change their fate, that they could escape.

"Thank you, then. It was…"

"It's fine."

The silence that followed was awkward, and Fenris didn't look at him for the remainder of his exercises. Alana came in to replace the basin and bring them a light breakfast. She said something in Tevene to Fenris, and Anders caught one word of it – 'master'. Fenris nodded and replied, and Alana left.

"What does Danarius want?" Anders asked, moving behind Fenris. He placed his palms on the elf's shoulders, pressing in white-blue waves of healing magic. The lyrium tattoos pulsed with each wave, relieving the fatigue and soreness.

"To see you, of course. I told you he would give you a boon. You'll be presented to him and he'll ask."

Anders frowned, taking the wet cloth from Fenris and started to sponge off his back. The water smelled of something slightly smoky, almost woodsy. He was reminded of Ferelden in the summer, and shook the fool notion from his head. It was a trick of his memory, his longing for the country he started to think of as his own, despite not having grown up there.

"I only want freedom," Anders said.

"He will not accept that," Fenris replied, rolling his shoulders.

Anders frowned and dabbed at the droplets of water that rolled down Fenris's spine. Absent-mindedly he chewed on his lower lip, thinking as Fenris bent forward, making it easier to wash away the sweat on his back. "What would you wish for?"

"For a larger bed."

The response was so absurd it drew an unexpected laugh, and he grinned to hear Fenris chuckle as well. "Honestly?"

"Perhaps a softer mattress and warmer blanket. Winters are still cold here despite how far north we are."

It was such a simple request. If he'd needed another blanket in the Circle, there would be easier ways to obtain one. Or the heating spells used to warm the rooms would simply be reapplied. To think that a slave wasn't even entitled to another blanket if it was cold… Ridiculous. All the more reason to get Fenris out of this place. And while he couldn't save every slave, perhaps when he was reunited with Justice, when the mages of Thedas were free, he would return to Tevinter to free the slaves as well.

The door opened and Alana stood, waiting for Anders. He handed the cloth back to Fenris and took up the outfit that was provided for him, frowning a bit at it. "These are… actual mage robes."

Fenris grunted and finished washing, drying himself off before dressing in his customary black pants and tunic. "Perhaps that is part of his gift."

Anders hated the ambivalence he felt. On one hand, they were actual thick, nicely sewn robes with swirls of color – light blues and purples - and turning them over, he noticed a dark blue dragon embroidered on the back. On the other hand, they were a gift from Danarius, and he shouldn't have felt so… so _proud_ of himself. Fenris looked at him, gesturing for him to dress, and Anders supposed he had no choice. Reluctantly he stripped and dressed, letting Fenris buckle the clasps and tie the sash. He moved his hair out from underneath his collar and a very vain part of him wished for a mirror to see how it looked.

"Ready?" Fenris asked, not providing feedback on his appearance.

Anders nodded and followed him and Alana out. Danarius was waiting for them in the library, and Anders forgot himself a moment, glancing around at the books until Fenris grabbed his wrist and yanked him to his knees. Thankfully, Danarius didn't seem to notice his distraction, and Anders lowered his head, fingers playing at the soft fabric of his robes.

"Fenris," Danarius said, something akin to affection in his tone. "You've done well. You've pleased me."

"Yes, Master," Fenris said evenly.

"And you," Danarius said. "My beautiful bird."

Anders scowled, though Danarius could not see his face. It was a stupid nickname. Though no more so than Fenris's own, he supposed.

"You've earned yourself a favor. I would hear it. Look at me, Bellales."

Anders looked up, still frowning slightly at the name given to him. Danarius was smiling, and spread his hands, waiting. What could he possibly want other than freedom? Surely Danarius didn't expect him to wish for something material like a new blanket. Anders had endured worse – Ferelden was freezing in the winter and the waters of Lake Calenhad were icy. He looked at Fenris, whose head was bowed, waiting. And Anders knew what he wanted.

He looked up at Danarius. "I wish to be moved into a larger, comfortable, private suite with a library, and I want to keep Fenris with me," he said, then figuring he should do the thing properly, added, "Master," as an afterthought.

Fenris stiffened next to him, but said nothing. It wasn't his place, it wasn't his favor. 

Danarius however, raised his eyebrows somewhat amusedly. He paced slowly, tapping a finger against his lips, other hand tucked behind his back. "Hm. Well, I suppose it would fit with what I have planned for the two of you once we reach Minrathous. Fenris has always been a top contender in the Provings, since he was young, isn't that right, pet?"

"Yes, Master," Fenris said automatically.

"I believe that if I were to pit you against Faustinus's warrior, with our little bird singing his sweet songs, keeping you in the fight… yes. Yes, that would be exceptional." He stopped in front of Anders, fingertips trailing his cheek, to the underside of his chin, guiding Anders to look up at him. "Very well, Bellales. Favor granted. However," he added, "you will start training with him. I will have the single most extraordinary fighting team in the history of the Imperium. A rare lyrium soldier and a spirit healer the likes of which Tevinter has not seen for some time." His smile broadened as he stroked Anders' cheek with his thumb, and guided him to stand. "It will be done. Go gather what things from your room you need and I will send someone for you. Fenris, go on."

"Yes, Master," Fenris said, bowing from his position on the floor.

Anders waited for him to stand, then followed him out and into their shared room. He hoped he'd made the right decision.


	8. Chapter 8

The suite was large, a sitting room with plush couches, a dining table and desk. Two bookshelves stood on either side of the fireplace with only a handful of tomes, though Anders hoped he would see more. If he was going to be stuck here, having reading material would help pass the time until he could escape. The spacious bedroom contained a large four poster bed, smaller fireplace, and a wooden armoire. Better still, the bedroom had a window. It was barred and there was no way out; they were still several floors up, but the glass could be opened to let in the sunshine and fresh air. A bathing area was partitioned off by a silk screen and it reminded him a bit of the Circle. The thought wasn't exactly a pleasant one, but it was a nice change from a cold basin of water brought every morning for the two of them to share. Anders tested the pump and the drain before returning to the sitting area where Fenris stood waiting.

"It's bearable at least," Anders said nonchalantly. 

Actually, he thought that was the problem. It was more than bearable. It was the nicest set of rooms he'd ever inhabited. He had very little memory of his home before the Circle. He had his own small room in the farmhouse at least. In Kinloch Hold, apprentices bunked together and moved after they were Harrowed. Though there was some illusion of privacy, you were always sharing with at least two or three others. At Vigil's Keep it was no better than a barracks, and communal bathing was a problem when you had to share with an obnoxious dwarf. In comparison, this was… luxurious. He hated it.

"I suppose," Fenris replied.

"Is it a problem?" Anders asked, taking the small chest of clothing from Fenris and leading him into the bedroom. He started to unpack the elf's meager belongings. "I thought you would appreciate a bigger room."

"It's not that," Fenris said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom, looking at the four poster.

"Then what?" Anders hung up the last outfit and moved the chest to the foot of the bed, turning to look at his friend.

"You used your favor to keep me with you. Why?"

Anders frowned at the suspicious look on Fenris's face. "I thought… maybe it would be best if we stayed together."

"Again. Why?"

Anders shifted a little, a guilty feeling curling in his chest and settling there like a lead weight. He wished his decision to keep Fenris with him was a noble one. To try to keep Fenris safe from Danarius. But it wasn't. It was entirely selfish. He didn't want to be left alone again, the possibility of Fenris leaving in the morning and never returning. Alana's visits were routine, but she never spoke to him. He didn't know if she even knew more than a few words in any language other than Tevene.

"You're my friend," he said finally. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole reason. "You deserve more," he relented. "You deserve freedom. But I can't give that to you. Yet."

Fenris folded his arms, rocking back on the balls of his heels. "He's going to train you to be his apprentice."

Anders frowned. "He is?"

"We're going to learn to fight together. He wants you in the Provings to show to the other senators how impressive you are. And he'll likely make you his apprentice. Mistress Hadriana will be disappointed."

"Am I supposed to feel bad for her?" Anders asked, slightly amused. "Apprentice… what does that mean? I can't see him being willing to teach me his magic. I wouldn't want to learn it." He hated blood magic, and that seemed to be what made most if not all of Danarius's repertoire. The very idea of using blood to fuel his power was just wrong, a perversion of the magic that was innate inside him.

"It means he's going to teach you to be like him. He's going to want to make you a magister."

Anders recoiled, shaking his head. "No. I'll refuse."

Fenris actually smiled, a slight curl of the lips before it vanished. "You may not have a choice."

"This is ridiculous," Anders muttered. "Slave or death. Magister or death." He started to pace, arms wrapped around himself. He hated how soft the material of the robes felt, the swish around his bare legs. "If I became a magister, I could leave though, right? I could leave Tevinter?"

"Perhaps, though more likely he would never grant you true freedom."

Anders looked up at him, stopping. "But magisters do let their slaves go?"

"It's… not unheard of," Fenris said uncomfortably. "But the magister would have to appeal to the courts. And a freed slave has less than anyone in the Imperium."

Anders scoffed. "They would have their freedom."

"Some slaves do not consider that a good thing."

Anders pursed his lips, frowning. "Like you."

Fenris spread his hands, sighing. "It is life, mage. Without a master, it's nearly impossible to survive."

Anders was about to argue the point, that people have been surviving for centuries without masters. But his time in Tevinter speaking with Fenris, he thought he understood just a little. Fenris was absolutely terrified whenever Anders brought up the idea of escaping. His fear had little to do with punishment, and more with what would happen after. Being on his own. But if Anders was going to convince Fenris to help him escape, he would need to prove to the elf that he would be there to take care of him afterward.

"I would take up the title," Anders said carefully, "only if I were allowed to keep you at my side."

Fenris scoffed. "He would never allow that."

"Then I suppose we're stuck with one another. Aren't we?" Anders asked, smirking a bit. "I won't leave without you, Fenris."

Fenris huffed, turning away to look out the window. "You're impossible."

Anders felt himself grinning at the insult. "Why?" he asked, coming up to stand behind him.

Fenris gestured, the movement slow and resigned. "You talk of nothing but freedom, of how you're going to escape. And then when the opportunity presents itself, you shy away from it."

"The situation is not yet desperate enough that I would want to resort to blood magic in order to obtain my freedom."

"I'm not talking of blood magic, Anders."

Anders leaned forward, resting his chin on Fenris's shoulder, following his gaze out the window. "Then what?"

Fenris leaned back, and it felt familiar, comfortable, to be together like this. Anders wrapped his arms around his slim waist, a pulse of soothing magic flowing through his limbs, causing Fenris's markings to cast a silvery light as they flared slightly.

"You refuse to leave without me."

"We're friends."

Fenris pulled away, a noise of disgust leaving his lips as he retreated to the sitting room. Confused and a little hurt, Anders followed. Fenris was curled on the couch in front of the unlit fire, elbow resting on the plush arm, fist curled against his mouth. He looked deep in thought already, and Anders stood in the doorway, watching. He supposed the couch would be a substitute now for the bed, Fenris slinking away whenever the conversation didn't go the way he wanted it to. Or when he found Anders too difficult to talk to. Anders wanted to understand his frustration, but he knew it was likely best to leave Fenris be for now.

Instead, he examined the few books that decorated the lonely shelves. He picked one up and read the cover. 'The Imperial Chant of Light.' Well, he'd be skipping that one. Two other books on Tevinter law which he set aside. He saw a smaller book on the bottom shelf and picked it up. 'Dragons and Damsels.' He snorted.

_Oh Maker, this is ridiculous._

But he settled down opposite of Fenris against the other arm of the couch and started to read. It was fairly typical of a bad romance. A woman of noble blood gets captured by a band of rogues and her father sets a bounty. No one seems to be able to rescue her except the dashing outlaw. Blah, blah blah. His eyes glazed over as he skimmed through the paragraphs, and he didn't notice Fenris had moved until the elf was sitting next to him, arm brushing against his own.

"Decided to talk to me again?" Anders asked, looking down at him.

"What are you reading?"

"Some horrible excuse for erotic fiction, complete with heaving milky white breasts." He might have been embarrassed at the subject had the plot actually been titillating. The author was obviously being paid by the adverb and the descriptions were dull and boring. The secret libraries in the Circle held better erotica, even the 'naughty apprentice and dirty Templar' shorts scribbled on the walls of the sparring rooms were more arousing.

Fenris frowned at the page. "Why would you read that?"

"It's more interesting than Tevinter laws, which are the other books Danarius left. I hope for others, or I despair of any real entertainment." He watched Fenris tilt his head a little, staring at the words. "You really never learned to read?" he asked gently.

"A slave has no need of it. Nor writing. We're taught a skill. In my case it was fighting."

_And training a talented mouth,_ Anders thought. He sighed. "I never thought about what it would be like not being able to read or write. My mother taught me to read before I was taken to the Circle. And there I learned how to write." He never thought of the Circle as an advantage. He'd received a decent education and good training under some very powerful mages. It was a shame the Circles were more prisons than schools, like they could be. "Do you want me to teach you to read?"

Fenris shook his head immediately. "No. If you taught me…"

Anders understood. "Danarius would be angry. Well. There's no harm in me reading to you, is there?" He watched Fenris struggle with this. "We don't have to tell him."

A slight nod. Anders grinned and started to read. He was only two pages in when Fenris was shaking his head.

"What is it?" Anders asked.

"This is truly awful."

Anders nudged him. "You don't like hearing about how the damsel quaked with pleasure as the rogues ravished her?"

"She was stolen from her home and these men forced themselves upon her."

"Ah." Anders understood. It wasn't exactly a story that could be told and understood by a slave who'd been raped. "It's a fantasy. Bored housewives with nothing to do while their husbands are out working the fields or fighting wars. Taken against their will and given pleasure. The way it's written it places the blame on the rogues, alleviating the housewife's guilt of wanting a different life away from her husband, with a man who wants to do nothing but please her. It's very cliché of the genre."

Fenris fell quiet, taking this all in. He looked confused, and Anders couldn't blame him. Finally, he spoke. "This book was written for bored housewives?" His tone was of utter confusion.

Anders smirked. "It does make you wonder why Danarius has it on his shelves, I suppose."

The door opened and the man in question stepped inside. Fenris moved immediately to kneel, and Anders closed the book, tucking it into the cushions. He sat and waited for instruction rather than hurrying to follow Fenris. Danarius smiled serenely, moving to touch Fenris on the head, stroking his hair. Anders felt a slight flare of jealousy. Danarius didn't care for Fenris. The affection was what an owner held for a pet, or worse. And that Fenris leaned into the touch was the worst part.

"All settled in?" Danarius asked Anders.

"Yes." Anders paused, frowning. "Master." Being hit with a pain spell right now would put a cramp on what had otherwise been one of the better days he'd been having since being taken captive.

"Good. You and Fenris will come with me to the courtyard. We have training to do."

The courtyard? Anders was on his feet in a second. Outside. He would get to go outside. Trying not to appear too eager, he followed Danarius and Fenris out. Down two floors and through a large armory, Anders was starting to get the scope of the place. He stood with Danarius, watching as Fenris suited up in spiky black armor and a silver breastplate. It was armor Fenris wore when Danarius was trying to impress and intimidate other senators. He picked up a large two-handed blade and turned toward them.

Danarius nodded in approval and gestured them out into the courtyard. Anders immediately turned his face up toward the noonday sun. There was a slight chill in the air and while the robes covered him, he remained barefoot and the wind lifted the hem, making him shiver. He didn't care. He hadn't been outside since Danarius took him to a Chantry service weeks before. He'd not even seen the sun, nor felt the wind. Carted like luggage from the mansion to the service and back. But this was glorious.

"We'll start with shades," Danarius said, ruining the moment. He touched Anders' shoulder, hand sliding up to the back of his neck. "You will keep him alive or I will be disappointed."

Anders shuddered, feeling the scrape of fingernails at his scalp. "Yes, Master."

And then Danarius handed him a staff. Anders stared at it a moment before taking it almost reverently. It was just a gnarled wooden thing with a twisted top, almost completely unremarkable but for the thrum of power he felt. He remembered passing his Harrowing in the Circle and receiving his staff. It was one of the proudest days of his life. Despite himself, despite hating the Circle, he'd been overjoyed to receive that staff. And now here he was, receiving another, and feeling quite the same.

Then Danarius was stepping away, slicing his palm. Anders felt the pull of the Fade and heard the shades, twisted and black, watched as they climbed from the ground. Fenris spun, lyrium markings coming to light, slashing the giant greatsword across a torso, splitting it in two. Muscle memory kicked in, and while he couldn't pull more than a weak fizzle of a fire spell, his creation and spirit magic were at full force, focused even more so by the staff. He concentrated on Fenris, watching the elf move like a ghost through shadows. Anders wondered if the shades were at their full power, it being the middle of the day, or if Fenris was simply that impressive.

A guttural cry, deep and fearsome echoed off the courtyard walls. Anders turned to see a hulking rage demon, its skin bright red-orange flame, scorching the stones as it slithered toward them. He took a step back, then another, trying to call instinctively upon the magic to hurt it, to drive it back. A purple light at his feet, a repulsion glyph, but no offensive magic. It was almost upon him. From behind, Fenris let out a shout that nearly deafened Anders, and the rage demon paused. A burst of lyrium light and Fenris was moving _through_ the demon, sword slashing at its fiery skin. Anders immediately threw out his palm to heal the burns.

By the time the fight ended, it felt as if almost an hour had passed. Anders knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. His mana reserves were low, he was exhausted. He leaned heavily on the staff, and yet the shades continued to come. He'd never faced someone so powerful before, and was slowly learning that Danarius was a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps the First Enchanter in his heyday could have come up against Danarius, but Anders would never be able to beat him in a one on one fight. Maybe this training wasn't just only to test his healing skills, but to show Anders Danarius's power.

_He's showing you that you cannot beat him,_ Anders thought. _Fear and intimidation, just like he does with the other senators._

And the fight was over, Fenris leaping forward, bringing his sword straight down, cleaving the last shade directly in two. He stood sweating, chest heaving, blade covered in black viscera. And when Danarius clapped politely, Anders could see the elf's face relax, a smile at his lips. He dropped to one knee, holding his sword aside as Danarius approached.

"Brilliant as always, my little wolf," he purred, reaching out to pet Fenris's hair.

Anders wasn't sure of the jealousy he felt as Fenris leaned in. Jealous of Fenris? Of Danarius? It was ludicrous either way. He had no reason to be jealous of either. He didn't want to be praised for being a good slave, and he didn't want to be the one to tell Fenris what he already knew. Still it was there. No one ever said jealousy was a rational emotion after all.

"You're a damned impressive fighter," he said, approaching Fenris.

Danarius looked at him, eyebrow raised. Perhaps he sensed Anders' jealousy. "You did well to keep him alive, my pet. But you both need more work. To be completely in tune with one another before we leave for Minrathous. You'll train daily."

Anders tried to hand the staff back to Danarius, who held up a hand.

"Consider it a gift."

Anders frowned. He didn't want a gift, not from Danarius. He didn't even want the man to gift him his freedom. He would take that from him. Right after he killed Danarius. He would have to speak to Fenris again that night. Something in the dynamic had shifted. Something was not right. He would continue to play the game Danarius forced him into playing, but once he determined that Fenris was his – was on his side – he would destroy the magister and gain freedom for the both of them.


	9. Chapter 9

Almost a week later found Anders lying on the floor of the sitting room, a moan escaping his lips as Fenris pressed down on his back. A book – this one a crime serial – lay a few feet away. He'd been reading to Fenris after they attended their supper duties where Hadriana spent the entire time glaring at Anders and his new robes. She had been there every night, vying for Danarius's attention, and every night, Anders enjoyed the thrill he felt making fun of her behind closed doors when he returned to his shared suite with Fenris. Tonight though, the book was pushed aside after Fenris commented on how Anders tended to roll and stretch his shoulders. It was an old ache, one that didn't seem to go away no matter how much healing energy he channeled to it. A sore spot that settled right between his shoulder blades. And now Fenris was straddling his waist, rubbing at the muscles.

"Danarius would be displeased," Anders muttered, cheek resting on his folded hands. "You're not afraid of making him angry?"

Fenris tutted and took his right wrist, pulling his arm behind his back, elbow bent sharply. "If you're loose for training, you'll perform better."

"That sounds like innuendo you'd find in the romance novel," Anders chuckled, but cut off with another moan as Fenris's thumbs worked the muscle under his shoulder blade. "Maker that feels good." He moved to rest his forehead on the carpet now as Fenris continued.

Settled in to the new suite, they fell back into a routine once more. After breakfast together, Danarius took them to the courtyard to train. Several hours of fighting demons or soldiers, whatever happened to be the enemy of the day, and they'd return to wash up and then attend the evening meal. After, Anders would be given a new book. He had quite the collection of romance and crime thrillers along with a few history texts. Nothing on magic, he noticed, and figured it was Danarius's way of controlling him. If it hadn't been for the fact that he was still a prisoner, that he still had unfinished business, Anders wouldn't have called it such a bad situation.

"We'll be leaving in a week," Fenris said, taking Anders' left wrist now to give his other shoulder blade the same treatment.

"Mm?" Anders hissed. "There," he pleaded, as Fenris found a tight knot. "Leaving?"

"For Minrathous."

"You've been there before," Anders prompted, relaxing as Fenris's hands moved up to his shoulders now, thumbs stroking along the back of his neck.

"Many times. We go to the city for the Provings, for parties. We stayed once for six months when Alam was threatened by the Qunari. But the fighting is far north and no one thinks we'll see an attack."

"But you do?"

"Perhaps. The Qunari once fought all of Thedas to a standstill. If they want Alam, they will take it."

"And what will Danarius do then?"

"He has an estate in Minrathous and one in Qarinus. Most likely we'll go to either."

"All of us?" Anders asked.

Fenris slid down, straddling his thighs now, working his lower back. "There is usually sufficient warning before the Qunari attack. The household is packed and we travel to the mainland until the fighting dies down. Then we return. There may come a day when we cannot. In which case, we would simply remain in the capital."

"Tell me about the celebration. I've never been to one." 

Anders rested his chin on his fist, looking into the fireplace as Fenris pressed his thumbs along his spine. The implications of the massage weren't lost on him. He knew they were treading dangerous waters, but he felt he had to encourage Fenris to make his own choices. The more Fenris realized he could do things without being ordered, take things for his own, the better chance Anders had of convincing him to turn on Danarius and help them both escape. A part of him felt a little bad when the things Fenris wanted brought him pleasure too, but in their situation he supposed that grabbing any little bit of happiness could be forgiven.

"It's a feast. The entire city turns out for celebrations, a parade. People wear masks and costumes and drink until they can't stand up anymore."

Anders smiled, turning to look back over his shoulder. "The slaves, too?"

Fenris frowned, hesitating. "Sometimes. If their masters allow them. More so they attend to the parties, keep the food hot and the wine flowing. Sometimes gifts are exchanged, but in Minrathous, it's about the Provings."

"I thought the Provings were a dwarven ritual," Anders said, rolling over slowly.

Fenris leaned up so Anders could move to lie on his back. He hesitated, then slid down, taking one of Anders' calves between his strong hands and began working the muscles. "They are traditionally. But dwarves are a very important part of the Senate. How else would the magisters get their lyrium?"

"I'd never thought about that," Anders said, folding his arms back behind his head. He watched Fenris concentrate, hands sliding over the linen fabric of his pants as he gently squeezed his calf. "You don't need to do that," he added, though with no real wish for Fenris to stop.

"I know."

Anders smirked, closing his eyes. "When you're finished, I'll return the favor."

"It's fine."

"No it's not," Anders insisted. "And don't make that face."

"Your eyes are closed, mage," Fenris pointed out irritably.

Anders grinned. "I know, but I know the face you're making. You're not my _slave_ , Fenris, you're my _friend_ and if you don't want me to massage your back, I won't. But since we're friends, I would mind reciprocating."

"If you wish."

 _Baby steps,_ Anders thought. A little bit at a time. Fenris needed to see he was worthy of the affection and attention Anders was willing to give him. "Tell me more about the Provings."

"The first time I remember seeing the Proving Grounds in Minrathous, I nearly stumbled in my step. It is… the most impressive thing I've ever seen in my life. Minrathous is a huge city built on an island as a fortress. And it has never been conquered."

Anders let out a breath as Fenris turned around, straddling his hips once again, kneeling over him to work his thigh muscle. The elf was dressed similarly to him, and he felt the heat of his groin against his own. He tried to focus on Fenris's voice, the deep gravelly tone, instead of what the talented hands and close proximity were doing to his body. Not that it was a problem, but they hadn't been together sexually since the morning after they'd been forced into demonstration. There was a mutual silent understanding that affection between them should be kept brief and chaste, that if Danarius ever found out, there would be dire consequences. And Anders had no desire to see Fenris hurt again through one of his own missteps. He reached up, fingertip idly tracing the lyrium lines down Fenris's back.

"The hanging gardens on the outside are some of the only greenery you'll see in the city, which was built from stone. It's a beautiful sight to behold. The arena is enormous, with seats enough to hold tens of thousands. Underneath, a catacomb leading to the dwarven embassy."

"Have you ever been there? To the embassy?" Anders asked, gasping as Fenris slid his hands up his thigh further. His cock jumped at the contact and he brought his other hand from behind his head, gently taking Fenris by the hips.

"No," Fenris said quietly. "I've been under the arena, but not that far down." He moved to work Anders' other leg now. "It's where the warriors prepare for the battle. Sometimes as many as a hundred fighters in the arena at a time."

Anders bit his lower lip as Fenris settled down against him, rubbing slowly against his cock. There was no way Fenris couldn't feel his burgeoning erection. The little bastard was doing this on purpose, Anders was sure. Stupid elf. Yet he couldn't help himself, guiding his hips back and forth. "And… and you fight?" he asked, trying to keep up with the conversation.

"Yes," Fenris said, his deep voice huskier than normal. "Every year, sometimes more depending on the prize. One year our master had me fight for a small fleet. Five ships. Two of them warships, the others large trade galleys. They fetched quite a large price when he sold them to a Rivaini merchant, I learned. He was… pleased with me."

"Oh," Anders breathed as Fenris sped up in his movements. He gripped him tightly before his hands slid to Fenris's thighs. "That's… that's good," he muttered, unsure of what he was saying. The friction was uncomfortable. He wanted to feel skin. "Fenris…"

"We shouldn't."

"Maker damn you, elf," Anders growled, nails biting into Fenris's thighs. "You can't just… Fuck."

"You don't want to hear more about the Proving Grounds?"

Anders swore he heard a note of amusement in the question, and groaned, hands falling to his sides now. "I suppose I should run myself a bath then," he said through gritted teeth. His mind was too addled to focus, his cock demanding attention. Not for the first time he wished he could feel Justice. The spirit would ease his frustrations and help him to concentrate on things beyond carnal pleasures.

Fenris was sliding back now, kneeling across his chest, and Anders found his hands on the elf's calves. Deft fingers untied his pants and a second later, Fenris's warm mouth was around his erection. He gasped, arching up into it, immediately remembering that morning a week ago. Anders groaned, hips lifting every time Fenris threatened to move too far away. With concentrated effort, he reached up and pulled the waistband of Fenris's pants down to his thighs. There was a pause from Fenris and Anders knew the elf was confused. He smirked, lifting his head, gripping his ass, parting him. He licked experimentally, and Fenris jerked forward before pressing back. He swore in Tevene, and Anders chuckled.

"On your side," Anders urged him.

There was a shuffling, an uncomfortable burn of rug against his arm and he was nearly kneed in the face as Fenris scrambled. One arm between Fenris's legs, curled up so his hand pressed the small of his back, and he was able to take the elf's cock into his mouth while Fenris worked him. He kept his own thighs spread, not wanting to crush his head accidentally. The dual sensation, the taste of his friend in his mouth while that suction continued on his own prick, and Anders wasn't sure what felt better. He tried to keep from whimpering as Fenris licked up his length, and mirrored the motion, grinning as Fenris groaned.

Anders rocked his hips forward, fingertips feathering down Fenris's side, finding his hand. Fenris held on tightly like a man clinging to life, afraid of falling into a chasm. Anders let him grip, wishing he could whisper appeasements to him, to assure him this was okay. In the back of his mind though, he wondered if it was. They knew the dangers, of the possibilities of being found out, what punishments might happen. He should have had better control. Was the brief physical pleasure worth it? Fenris groaned around him before taking him further into his mouth, down his throat, and all rational thought left Anders' mind. He swallowed hard and was rewarded with Fenris thrusting into his mouth. 

So wrapped up as they were, neither heard the door open. They did, however, hear Alana's surprised cry as she saw them together. Anders received a knee to the top of his head as Fenris scrambled up. He shut his eyes against the throbbing pain before remembering himself and yanked up his pants, sitting up. Alana screamed and he looked over. Fenris had her by the hair, dragging her head back.

"Fenris!" he cried, tripping as he tried to get to his feet.

Fenris's markings flared and he thrust his fist into her chest. Alana screamed again, then jerked and went silent. Fenris removed his fist, coated in blood which dripped to the floor, and Alana fell to the ground just as Anders reached Fenris, grabbing his arm. The elf rounded on him, glaring, and Anders stepped back instinctively, feeling his stomach tighten. The room spun and he felt hot and dizzy, bile rising his throat. He swallowed hard.

"You… you killed her. Fenris, why?" he asked, desperate.

"She would have told the master," Fenris snarled. "Do you understand?"

"I… you didn't have to KILL her!" Anders shouted. He reached forward, taking Fenris by the shoulders.

Fenris shoved him off and stalked to the bedroom, Anders following with a backward glance at Alana. Fenris ran the bath and washed his hand, toweling off the spatter of blood on his chest as well. "She would have told," he repeated.

"And you don't think Danarius is going to notice a dead slave?!" Anders was panicking now. What would Danarius do? Would he kill them both? Punish them? Have them beaten or raped? Would he separate them? Take Fenris and keep him locked away perhaps in his old room? Anders was wringing his hands and forced himself to stop, trying to calm down.

The sound of splashing as Fenris washed filled the silence. He drained the tub and turned, toweling off his hand and chest. "Then we have to lie," he said.

"You said Danarius knows when we lie. No. I'll tell him. I'll tell him what happened and-" Anders cut off with a gurgle as Fenris's hand gripped his neck, nearly cutting off his air supply.

"You'll do no such thing," Fenris said quietly, green eyes narrowed, glaring at Anders. "Even if he knows we're lying, he won't know the truth of it. He won't know that we-" He cut off with a growl. "I will not allow it. Do you understand, mage?"

Anders, terrified at this aggression, nodded. He rubbed his throat when Fenris released him, wanting both to step back away from him and to embrace him. But for his own comfort or Fenris's, he couldn’t say. "What do we do now?" he asked quietly.

"I will report it. I will explain that she caught me by surprise and I thought she was an intruder. I overreacted and caused her death."

Anders frowned. "But you'll be punished. It was my fault as much as it was yours."

"I will take the punishment. It will be lashes. Alana is… was a maid," he said, a note of remorse in his voice. "Our master wouldn't… damage me much this close to Satinalia. He needs me in the Provings."

"Oh lucky you!" Anders spat sarcastically. "Why take the punishment entirely on your shoulders? It's my burden too!" He couldn't believe he found himself begging Fenris to let him take the blame.

"Anders."

Anders ran a hand back through his hair, sighing as the strands fell back in his face. "Fenris."

But the elf was not going to give in, and damn him, he was stubborn as a mule. They stared at each other through the darkness, glaring, waiting. Finally, feeling defeated, Anders nodded and gestured toward the door. Fenris surprised him, stepping forward, reaching up to pull him down for a kiss, lips warm and dry, before releasing him almost as quickly. He left the room to deal with Alana, and after a minute, Anders pulled on a tunic before he stepped back into the sitting room. He frowned, standing against the wall, staying as far away from Alana's body as he could while still being able to see her. Her eyes were wide in shock, mouth opened in a silent scream. A waste of a life, and it had been his fault. He still felt sick.

It wasn't Danarius who stepped through the door, but Hadriana. Fenris followed, head bowed. He knelt on the floor and waited as Hadriana examined the body. She waved to someone in the hall, and two more slaves came in to remove her. Hadriana closed the door after.

"What are you doing here?" Anders demanded.

"How dare you?" she snarled. "You are no apprentice. You're merely a slave. Know your place and kneel."

Anders folded his arms. It was the wrong response. A second later, he felt sharp stabs of pain all over his body and fell to his knees, crying out. Apparently Danarius had taught her that spell.

"It's too bad Master Danarius hasn't given me leave to do with you as I saw fit. You would make a nice snack for my shades."

"Such a pity," Anders said, unable to help himself.

Hadriana crossed the room toward him and Anders wasn't able to bring his hands up in time as she kicked him full in face. Pain blossomed from his nose as he felt it break, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. He collapsed further to the floor, spitting, spraying scarlet onto the carpet. Hadriana turned next to Fenris, pulling a cat o'nine tails from her belt. Anders tried to get to his knees and was thrown back with a force wave of magic slamming him to the wall.

"Stay," she ordered. "Or I'll give him fifty instead of five."

Anders shuddered, but stayed, lifting an arm to wipe away the blood from his face, which throbbed horribly. He pushed a bit of healing magic into it to stop the ache, and forced himself to watch. Fenris grabbed the edge of the couch, and Anders couldn't see his face as Hadriana brought down the cat, the leather smacking loudly against his flesh, raising angry red welts.

 _One,_ he counted silently. _It should be me._

_Two. The marks are starting to bleed a little._

_Three. Fenris's nails digging into the cushions of the couch._

_Four. He was trembling, but not making a sound._

_Five._

Hadriana smirked, examining the cat, running a finger along one, a droplet of blood on her fingertip. She licked it off and laughed. "Good. It's too bad Master Danarius only ordered five. It's a shame he seems to like you, little wolf."

She grabbed his hair, pulling him back, exposing his neck. Anders started forward again and grabbed her wrist. She looked at him, icy eyes turning to glare. She looked down at his hand, then back up.

"You'll want to think twice, slave."

Anders' eyes flicked to Fenris, who was held in place by Hadriana. He seemed to be begging Anders to let it go. Anger, rage beyond any he'd felt at the injustice of it filled him up. But he released her and stepped back. Though he was at least a head taller than she was, she didn't seem scared of him at all. She knew he couldn't do anything, not without severe repercussion. The shackles on his wrists kept his offensive magic dampened, and she knew it. Anders wondered if there was a way to heal someone to death. If there was, Hadriana would be his victim of choice.

She smirked again, making a noise of satisfaction before releasing Fenris, shoving his head forward, and left them, locking the door behind her. Anders immediately knelt and started healing the crisscrossing wounds, removing his tunic to wipe away the blood.

"Fenris…"

"It… is fine. He will not question it further. Not now. Please. I'd just like to sleep now."

Anders frowned but helped him to his feet. Even though he'd expertly healed him, and it wasn't likely Fenris felt any more pain, he kept a firm arm around his waist, guiding him to the bedroom where they stripped and climbed in together. Fenris curled up, then surprisingly he turned toward Anders, face buried in his chest. Anders draped his arm around him, holding him tightly. He pressed a kiss to Fenris's forehead.

They lay like that for a while in the darkness, in the quiet, before Anders whispered, "Help me escape." He swallowed. "Help us both, and I'll keep you safe."

Fenris did not reply.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the lovely comments and the kudos! I'm sorry, I'm one of those authors that tries to respond to everyone's comments. I really love and thrive on feedback and it's so very much appreciated. I've gotten a lot of love for this story so far which is wonderful, since I was nervous going so AU. Here's hoping you like the rest of this arc and the next two!

Anders looked around, a nervous sort of excitement creating a fluttering in his stomach. Next to him, Fenris seemed almost entirely unaffected by the bustle of the city. He was dressed in full black and silver armor, his sword of choice strapped to his back. Anders had been given a new set of robes, a silken shirt and tight leather pants and for the first time since being made a slave, a pair of soft leather boots. The robes were made of thick dark blue fabric which rustled as he walked. A white embroidered dragon emblazoned the back, and while he still bore the silver dampening cuffs, with a staff on his back he felt almost free.

Danarius walked ahead of them, a half dozen solders milling around him and another seven or eight watching their flank. The city didn't seem particularly dangerous to someone like Anders, but he wasn't a senator. It was large, busy, loud, and it stank. Not of piss or shit like Denerim had, but of blood and magic and herbs. They paused almost immediately after stepping off a boat, two mages engaging in a fight, flinging fireballs and spikes of ice. A few shades joined the fray. The clanking of metal caused Anders to recoil, and Danarius slid an arm around his shoulders.

"Watch, Bellales," he said, lips close to his ears. "You will see that here, it is not as you know it."

Anders was enthralled. Two Templars were struck down in a blaze before one of the mages fell. Not to a blade, but to a well-timed crushing prison. His chest burst open in a pulse of black magic, and the victor mage stood down almost at once. He merely wiped his face, smirked at the remaining Templars, and walked away to board the ship he'd been heading to. As shocked as Anders was to see a man ripped apart in broad daylight, he was even more shocked to see magic performed here on the street in full view of Templars. And they did nothing to stop the mage from leaving.

"The mage he killed," Danarius said, guiding Anders forward, stepping over the remains of the man's torso, "wasn't worthy of living. Otherwise the Maker would've seen to his victory."

Anders' head throbbed, thoughts coming in a jumbled heap. "I've never seen magic performed in the open like this." He winced, expecting to be rebuffed for speaking out of turn, or something rubbishy like that.

Danarius merely laughed, squeezing him tightly to him, and kissed his cheek like a proud father would a son. "Welcome to the heart of the Imperium, Bellales."

And it didn't stop there. As they walked through the city, magic was everywhere. Anders could feel it in the very stone, holding up the buildings. The architecture was impossible, defying gravity. Not even dwarves could manage it. It must have been all magic. And the shops were full of reagents, potions, herbs, anything you could possibly think of needing for spell work. He itched to examine it all.

"If you perform well in the Provings," Danarius promised, "perhaps you'll have some time to enjoy the market."

Anders was disgusted with his own excitement. No city in the whole of Thedas was anything like Minrathous. And the rest of the Tevinter Imperium was the same. Mages walking about in robes, carrying staves, casting spells in the streets. People, normal people, walking past them. Templars walking past them as if they were just other citizens, not criminals. It hurt him to see it, to know that the rest of Thedas could have this. Though maybe not the blood magic, he thought, as he looked at several seedier stalls that seemed to hold jars filled with it. If there could be a compromise between this and the Circles…

"Here we are," Danarius said, raising a hand to a big black gate, opening it with a pulse of magic.

The building beyond was a fraction of the size of the estate in Alam, but no less impressive. Gold bricked and four stories tall, the stairs leading up were flanked by serpentine dragon statues. They were also golden with large jade stones for eyes. As Anders walked past them, he noticed they were breathing, and unable to fight the impulse, he reached out to stroke one. Fenris yanked him back a second before the dragon's jaws would've clamped down on his hand.

Danarius chuckled. "So curious, little bird."

Anders blushed, ducking his head. It hadn't been a reprimand, not exactly. He tried to remember that this was a dangerous place. But it was hard when everything thrummed with magical energy, calling to him. It felt much the opposite of the Circle, where Templars stalked the halls, glaring at every mage as if they'd done something wrong. Minrathous, Maker help him, felt like a home he'd never had. A home he'd yearned for. He hated it and he loved it. So much power, so much freedom. He shook his head, trying to focus. He was a slave, a captive, and he needed to escape. He would return to a world that hated him, feared his magic, but he couldn't rest. He couldn't forget his purpose.

"You'll retire to your room," Danarius said, addressing both Fenris and Anders. "We attend Senator Breixo's gala tonight. I expect you both to be at your best. Two days of Provings and then a leaving celebration. Understood?"

"Yes, Master," Anders said in time with Fenris. 

It should have bothered him how easy the words rolled from his lips. It should have bothered him how _nice_ it felt when Danarius kissed both his and Fenris's foreheads. And it definitely should have bothered him at how eager he was to explore the new house he was in. While the estate in Alam was enormous, it somehow lacked the opulence of this residence. The estate was stone, old. And though Anders knew the buildings in Minrathous were ancient, dating back to before the First Blight, it somehow felt new here. The floors were dark, rich wood, covered in thick rugs with bright colors. The walls were painted flat white, tapestries of dragons and battles depicting the Imperium's greatness hung everywhere. And as he ascended the grand staircase, running a finger along the cherry wood bannister, he felt a stirring of pride.

The room they were staying in was smaller than their suite back home, a couch, fireplace and small kitchen area on the main floor with a spiral, wrought iron staircase leading to a bedroom loft with a tub. Anders climbed it at once and kneeled on the bed to look out the window. His eyes widened as he surveyed the city. Buildings of varying height, he saw a large domed one in the distance, and beyond that, a point of green amidst the brown and tan stone.

"Fenris, is that the arena?"

Fenris removed his sword, placing it on the table and climbed the stairs to look out. "Yes, you can see the hanging gardens. We'll be there tomorrow. It's more impressive in person."

"And what's that?" Anders asked, pointing at the domed building.

"The Circle."

"It's so big!" he breathed, touching the glass as if to reach out and cup it in his hand.

"It's where the Archon presides over the city's laws, where the senate meets," Fenris explained. "It's one of many in the Imperium. The city sprung up around the Circle, so I'm told. It should all be in one of the history books our master gave you."

"I… I shouldn't be so impressed. This is dangerous," Anders said, turning to look at him, breathing a bit heavily. He was excited and nervous, and at the same time he was terrified. "I could see myself here… I can't think this way."

Fenris pursed his lips. "You would do well in the senate."

"Don't say such things," he whispered, settling to sit on the mattress. He folded his hands his lap, one thumb brushing anxiously over the other. "This isn't good for me to be here. The Imperial Circle isn't any better than the rest of the ones in Thedas. Mages shouldn't be made prisoners, but they shouldn't keep slaves either!"

"You would be fair to your slaves, I think," Fenris said contemplatively. "They would see you as a just master."

Anders looked up at him, eyes blazing with fury. "Shut up. I don't want to enslave anyone."

"I…" Fenris frowned, stepping back a little. "I didn't mean… I am sorry."

Anders sighed, leaning forward, dropping his head into his hands as he pressed his palms against his eyes. "This is difficult. It's wrong. It's all wrong but it feels so right. So comfortable. Like I could stay here and…"

"You don't… want this?"

"Of course I don't!" Anders snapped, looking up again. He heard the desperation in his own voice. "Fenris… you have to make sure I don't fall to this."

The elf's eyes widened, looking suddenly like a scared deer. "I…I'm sorry?"

It wasn't fair that he was asking this of Fenris. But he knew he would be tested over the next few days. That Danarius's generosity, his courtesy, wasn't a simple reward for being a good slave. He was testing Anders, trying to get him to taste the poisoned fruit, to make him want this. And Maker help him, it was working. Danarius was a manipulative snake, and Anders was falling for his machinations. 

"You said it before. Danarius will try to make me his apprentice. I can't. I won't. But I need your help." He wasn't sure why he was panicking. Perhaps it was his preoccupation with everything here. He felt dizzy, confused, like the city itself was calling to him. It reminded him of the Deep Roads, the taint, the hum of the darkspawn. "Please," he begged, reaching out.

Fenris hesitated, but took his hand, allowing Anders to draw him close. He frowned, kneeling, hands on Anders' knees now. He reached up, cupping Anders' cheek, brushing a thumb against his skin. "If it upsets you that much…"

"It does, Fenris. It terrifies me. Please."

"I must admit I've never seen a mage not want this power," Fenris said quietly. "I am… concerned for you. For what might happen should you refuse this. This is all any mage in the Imperium would ever want."

Anders closed his eyes, overwhelmed. It would be so easy, wouldn't it? To simply take what Danarius was offering. To bite the apple and dive into this new life. He was reminded horribly now of his year in solitary. Demons calling to him from the Fade, telling him how to ease his suffering. The Templars were expecting it, waiting for him to turn into an abomination, to strike him down in his cell. But the demons hadn't taken him. He hadn't let them. Hadn't wanted their help. This was easier and more difficult than that. One slip, one wrong step and he would start down a very slippery slope.

"Promise me you'll help me, Fenris," Anders said, opening his eyes to look at him. He blinked and a tear fell, sliding down his cheek to the elf's thumb.

Fenris brushed it away. "I promise I will do all in my power to make sure you do not fall to this foul magic."

Anders leaned down and kissed him, gripping his arms, feeling relieved. Fenris returned it, a reassuring, chaste caress before they pulled apart. Anders sniffed, sitting upright and wiped at his eyes, feeling embarrassed for his rush of emotion.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Don't," Fenris said, standing. "Though an unusual request, and our master will be extremely displeased with the both of us…"

"I'd rather be whipped raw, magic choked off and removed than use it for evil." He'd always thought that being made Tranquil was the worst that could happen to a mage. And while it was absolutely horrible, how terrible would it be to have your magic used for something so disgusting? Minrathous might be a city of mages, but underneath, it was a festering pool of darkness. Anders thought he would drown in it if he got too close.

Fenris nodded resolutely. "I... You have my respect."

Anders looked up at him, sniffing once more. "That's… thank you."

He watched Fenris retreat down the stairs, and shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to calm down. He'd gotten used to the routine of Alam, just as he'd been used to the routine of the Circle. Escaping, running away from certainty, hadn't been difficult physically. But it was always a bit scary to wonder where your next meal was going to come from. Whether or not you were going to get caught. And as much as he hated being dragged back to the Circle, a part of him however small, looked forward to a warm bed and a hot meal. He wouldn't let Minrathous become the new Circle for him. He would escape and he would stay out, he would find his own way and live as a free man. A free mage.

Calming, he turned to look out the window again. It was a gorgeous city full of important history, but dangerous. He shivered to remember Danarius's arm around his shoulder, encouraging him to watch the mage fight. The man reeked of demonic power and it repulsed him. He didn't want to think of it in general, broad terms of Danarius representing dark while he represented light, but even though he couldn't fully feel Justice inside him, the spirit's powers were opposite Danarius's. He knew there was a very strong pride demon somewhere behind Danarius's magic, could feel it whenever the man drew too close to him. Clearly Danarius wanted him to experience all that Tevinter had to offer him.

_When he invites you to become his apprentice, you must be strong._

The words almost felt like Justice's. But his friend wasn't with him. He was depending on an elf he'd met a few weeks ago, someone he'd been forced into an unlikely friendship with. Someone who at times it seemed was as scared of himself as he was of his own freedom. He would have to try to trust himself, but also believe in Fenris, that Fenris would keep his promise. And perhaps, maybe Fenris would realize the severity of the situation finally and they could leave together. It would be more welcoming to be on the road with a friend than by himself.

_"You have my respect."_

He pressed his forehead against the cool windowpane, looking down at the street below. A little boy tugged free of his mother's grasp and ran ahead. Anders reached out, palm against the glass as the boy fell. Though he couldn't hear him, he saw the boy cry and clutch his knee. His mother knelt beside him, a flash of blue-white light. A simple spell, one the Enchanters in the tower would teach apprentices right away. She scooped the boy up, kissing his cheeks. Anders' chest felt painfully tight as he watched them walk away, hand in hand, and closed his eyes.

"Anders."

"Yes?"

Fenris was calling up for him. "It is almost time to attend the party."

"Of course."

He stood, wiping his eyes though they were dry now, and headed downstairs. Impulsively, he pulled Fenris into a tight hug. His only friend, a friend who promised him he'd see him through this. Though Fenris owed him nothing. Fenris was surprised by the embrace, but nevertheless returned it before stepping away, taking up his sword.

"Remember," Fenris said, "tonight at the party. Compliance."

Anders nodded, hooking his staff to his back. "Compliance," he agreed.

He steeled himself, and followed Fenris out of the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Senator Brexio was a portly man, his robes stretching tightly across his plump belly. He was bald with a mustache that covered half his face. His slaves – two elven women dressed in slinky red dresses – poured him more brandy and fed him grapes, sitting on either arm of the very large, opulently upholstered chair upon which he sat. Anders tried not to look around the mansion, at the display of art and sculptures that were clearly meant to impress and intimidate. He kept his head down even as Fenris kept his own up, eyes forward. He was acting in the capacity of a bodyguard tonight, and everything in his stance screamed it. No one would touch Danarius as long as Fenris stood.

Brexio spoke in Tevene to Danarius, and half-rose as Danarius approached to shake his hand and exchange kisses on the cheek. Anders, though he'd been picking up more words with every supper, quickly lost the conversation. Until he felt Danarius's hand on the small of his back, pushing him forward. Brexio looked him over, head to toe. Anders felt like a tart on display as Danarius spoke presumably about him, gesturing lazily to his hands, describing… something. He'd have to ask Fenris later what was being said.

Brexio looked impressed though, and Danarius smirked, his tone indicating pride, and Anders felt heat rise in his cheeks as Danarius took him around the shoulders. He guided him out of that room into a larger one with dozens of others. The sound of conversation made his head spin. He recognized Hadriana and a few others, and despite himself, kept close to Danarius. It reminded him of the Warden gatherings where he knew only a scant handful of people. Only then he would be happy to be the center of attention, loud and obnoxious, making jokes at the Warden-Commander's expense. He looked around, noting the slaves that stood against the walls or kneeled at their masters' feet. His heart broke for them. Even though nothing was being done to them _now_ how many would go home and receive beatings or worse for something they'd done wrong in their master's eyes? This was why he needed to leave.

"Ah, Danarius!"

Anders and Fenris turned as one, the latter with his hand on the pommel of his sword. But the man before them was tall and slim and looked like he could be broken in two by one strong wind. Behind him though, was someone who cut a much more imposing figure. Taller by a head than most people in the room, broad-shouldered, he wore a rough spun linen tunic designed to show off his muscles. His chin length black hair shone in the light, and wicked looking scars crisscrossed his face. Twin daggers sat on either hip. The effect was impressive, and Anders only did not step back because Danarius still had him around the waist.

"Faustinus," Danarius greeted.

Anders watched them shake hands, Faustinus smirking under his black goatee. His slicked back hair was perfectly coiffed, not a strand out of place. And when Danarius gestured to Anders and introduced him in Tevene, Anders met those piercing violet eyes. It was unnerving.

"Faustinus believes he can defeat you and Fenris tomorrow," Danarius chuckled. "He's yet to see your power, my pet." Danarius reached up, brushing back Anders' hair, tucking a strand behind his ear.

Anders suppressed a shudder at the intimate gesture. Though he despised Danarius, everything he stood for, he felt safer for the moment at the man's side. Any one of these magisters would collar and chain him given the chance. And as cruel as Danarius was, his situation in Alam seemed preferable for now. _Better the devil you know,_ he thought wryly.

"My own healer is resting this evening. She'll be at full strength tomorrow, so I believe we will give you a run for your money."

"I'm surprised you came all the way from Solas just to be humiliated."

Faustinus's lip curled in a sneer, and Anders barely registered the next several seconds. Faustinus threw a spell which smoldered in his hand as Danarius erected a shield almost instantly. There was a thrum of power, a deep vibration in his very core, and Faustinus's bodyguard was keeping him from crumpling to the ground. Danarius let out a breath, inclined his head in a mock bow, and turned to leave. Faustinus reached out, but Fenris was there, sword raised, lyrium brands shimmering, and Faustinus seemed to think better.

"We shall see who will be humiliated tomorrow, Danarius."

Danarius chuckled, leading Anders and Fenris away from the other man. An elven slave, one of Brexio's judging from her outfit, brought Danarius a glass of wine. He gestured, and she gave him another, which he handed to Anders. Anders took it, confused.

"When we win tomorrow," he said, nodding, indicating that Anders should drink, "Faustinus will retreat to Solas with tail between his legs. And I won't have to deal with him for another year."

Anders sipped, letting the slightly fruity, almost bubbly flavor settle on his tongue a moment before swallowing. "What's his healer like?" he asked, then quickly glanced at Danarius, a sudden fear in his breast.

Danarius waved it away. Anders was apparently being given permission to speak freely. "I've not seen her. An elf, I know that much. He has been talking her up all year. When we win," he said again, "you'll get to meet her. Perhaps teach her something useful."

"Teach her?"

"Oh yes. The prize is the exchange of slaves." Danarius reached up, petting Fenris's hair. "My little wolf has won me many useful slaves. And I know you, Bellales, will do the same."

Anders swallowed hard. "Yes, Master."

The rest of the party seemed to be much the same. Danarius spoke with his fellow magisters, introduced Anders sometimes, but never deigned to acknowledge Fenris. Fenris for his part said nothing. Anders supposed it was for the effect. He did look striking amongst the other guests. Even the elves gave him a wide berth. Anders wondered idly if Fenris ever spoke with Danarius's other slaves. They seemed to be comfortable with one another, the cook and her boy. Alana… before she died. But Fenris – and he hated to think of him like this – appeared to be a lone wolf. How long had he been on his own, no one to talk to? Anders wondered if he was Fenris's first, well, friend would be the word he would use, but wasn't sure how accurate that was.

"Ah, the fun begins," Danarius said. He waved Fenris and Anders off.

Fenris took Anders by the arm and pulled him away from Danarius, back against a wall where they stood together. Anders looked at Fenris, eyebrow raised. The elf shook his head slightly, then glanced around. No one was watching them, everyone's focus on the center of the grand ballroom.

"A demonstration of power," Fenris muttered from the side of his mouth.

"Power?" Anders asked, looking back.

He felt it, the draw of the Fade, the dark magic swirling, pulling him toward the center of the room. Fenris kept a firm grip on his wrist, eyes leveled at the circle that formed. Anders watched as a woman with long red hair, golden robes swishing about her legs, stepped into the center. She bowed to the room at large and withdrew an onyx dagger. She pressed the tip into the palm of her hand, then through it, and Anders recoiled.

"They're using blood magic to impress one another?" Anders asked, stomach churning.

Fenris nodded, keeping one hand on Anders's arm, the other on the pommel of his sword. "I have my doubts that Danarius will call upon you. But be wary. This magic will draw you in."

"I… no, I won't."

"I've made my promise to you, mage. I will not allow you to fall to this."

Anders swallowed hard against the wave of nausea, the stench of blood in the air. He felt Fenris's lyrium markings swell to life and pressed his arm against the elf's. He'd faced demons and darkspawn and broodmothers. The Maker knew the horrors he faced in the Deep Roads, the Architect, the lure of it all. It wasn't hard to see now why so many mages fell to this power. He wanted to run screaming from the room but at the same time, every bit of his being wanted to join, to show them Justice's power. But the spirit would never allow himself to be used that way, and for that Anders was glad. He was also very, very relieved that he couldn't feel Justice at the moment. The spirit would be infuriated to see the display of dark magic.

He felt dizzy as the cream colored carpet became saturated with crimson. A slave girl was dragged forward by a magister Anders did not recognize. The man was shaved bald, dark-skinned, and one eye was milky white. He sneered, baring his teeth as he shoved her face into the carpet. She didn't struggle, but Anders heard her cry, face buried. The magister withdrew a silver knife and sliced her tunic open, then started to carve into her back. Horrified Anders took a step forward and Fenris clamped down hard on his arm, dragging him to the wall.

"It will be worse for her if you interrupt."

It was a testament to how well Fenris knew Anders. If it had only been a matter of his own skin, Anders wouldn't care. But he knew if he stepped into it, the girl's master wouldn't be happy and Danarius would take out his own embarrassment on Fenris later, forcing Anders to watch it. He knew how it worked. And it angered him further that he was unable to do anything about it. 

The temperature in the room increased, a dozen little impish creatures rising from flames in a circle as they danced. Several senators clapped in approval as the dark-skinned magister completed his ritual. The girl was unconscious now, but breathing. Her master stood, started speaking in Tevene, and Anders didn't bother asking Fenris to translate. The imps disappeared a few minutes later and two other slaves moved to carry the girl's limp form from the room. Then Danarius stepped forward and Anders winced.

"He's not going to use you, is he?" Anders asked, looking to Fenris.

Fenris shook his head. "I was the display last year. A full demonstration of my markings."

"I… is it me? Am I the 'centerpiece' here?" Anders asked with trepidation, dreading the answer.

"We'll likely need to put on a show, yes," Fenris said, somewhat reluctantly. "But not here. This is power. And while power is inherently sexual, it is not that type of display."

Anders wasn't sure if he felt better about the news or worse. His eyes widened when the crowd parted, a woman stepping forward, leading a little boy. He recognized them as the two that were outside in the street earlier. He watched her kiss his cheeks, patch his knee. The boy looked confused, scared as the circle of powerful mages stared at him, waiting. The woman was crying silently. She knelt and hugged him tightly before pushing him forward, then disappeared. Anders felt his jaw drop, breath coming hard and fast, fists clenching.

"Fenris…"

"There is nothing you can do to stop it."

A shallow bucket was brought by two of the household. Anders recognized the elves as those who'd removed Alana's body, dressed in Danarius's colors, dark blue and deep violet. They stripped the boy, who struggled, and placed him naked and shivering into the bucket, forcing him to sit. Danarius raised his palms, two balls of white-yellow light hovering there. Behind him, a hulking pride demon, though it seemed to be just a shimmery vision of it. Danarius spoke in Tevene, slowly but excitedly. He brought his hands forward and the yellow light enveloped the boy.

Fenris clamped a hand over Anders' mouth a second before Anders cried out. A slash of an invisible knife opened the boy's throat, slitting him from ear to ear. A spray of arterial blood spattered against the carpet, the rest bubbling out from the wound, cascading down his small body into the bucket. With a primal roar, the pride demon burst into tangible form. Several magisters stepped back from the demon, gasping and clapping. Anders felt a terrible urge to strike them all down. How could they care about such a thing when a little boy was murdered in cold blood right in front of them?

He pulled Fenris's hand away from his mouth, but gripped it tightly. "How…"

"Behold the will and might of the powerful magisters," Fenris said, tone dripping with disgust.

Anders shut his eyes, turning his head away from the gruesome scene. He heard the roar of the pride demon, the rumbling of its voice as it spoke, as Danarius conversed with it. He could feel the pull of it, the aching want of what it was offering though he couldn't make out a single word. Fenris kept him firmly in place, and he was grateful for his friend once again. Minutes that felt like ages passed and the demon disappeared to a round of appreciative applause. Anders opened his eyes to see the elven slaves dragging bucket and boy from the center of the room. The demonstration was over and the party resumed much the same way it had before.

Danarius approached them both and Fenris dropped Anders's arm. "Did you enjoy that, my pet?" he purred, cupping Anders's chin and bringing his face up.

"Yes, Master," Anders managed, though he still felt sick.

Danarius chuckled. "You're a horrible liar, pet. But it's no matter. I didn't expect you to like it, just to accept it. And you did admirably."

Anders swallowed hard. Because he didn't try to stop the murder of an innocent boy, he would be rewarded. Rewarded for his cowardice. He felt dizzy and hot, and suddenly Danarius's hand was on his forehead, cool and calming.

"Easy. We don't want you to fall unconscious. That would be most embarrassing."

Anders felt a wash of healing energy that was not his own pass through him. The nausea fled and his head felt clear. He was no longer trembling. It reminded him of the Circle, how Wynne would teach him how to heal himself by using her own power. He felt Danarius's power, though the man was far, far removed from a spirit healer, he still had the basic use of creation magic. Anders swallowed hard again against the lump in his throat.

"Thank you, Master," he whispered.

"Drink. Enjoy the party. Fenris will watch over you while I speak to others. And tomorrow, you will be the one that impresses them." He cupped Anders's cheek and kissed his forehead before moving back into the crowd.

Anders looked at Fenris, who kept his eyes on Danarius. "Does this happen every year?"

"Every time there is a large gathering of the magisters, there is no lack of wanton killing. Slaves are bled, sometimes to excess. If you don't prove your worth, you're disposable."

"Everyone has worth. Everyone," Anders said, fists clenching.

Fenris pursed his lips. "Not in the eyes of the Imperium."

"We've got to get out of here, Fenris."

"Speak softly, mage. The walls have ears."

Anders glanced around. No one seemed to be watching them in particular, but he trusted Fenris. They remained at the outskirts of the room, watching the others. Most of the slaves appeared to be doing the same thing, some settling at their masters' feet, leaning up to receive a treat, a morsel of food they ate like dogs from the magisters' fingertips. Anders recalled how Danarius treated him similarly, how it felt to be fed like a pet, rather than treated like a person. And now here he was, standing, dressed in thick robes, with permission to drink and eat if he so desired. He declined both.

It was a long few hours as the night stretched on, Anders speaking quietly with Fenris, asking him for a translation, trying to learn the language by ear. He was sure that if he requested to be taught, Danarius would get him books or even possibly a tutor. Fenris was right; Danarius was looking to make him an apprentice. While it was moderately better than 'slave' it wasn't preferable. He was thankful when the night wound down, Brexio clasping Danarius's forearm enthusiastically.

The night was cool, and though it had to be well past midnight, Anders saw lanterns in the distance, heard the far off sounds of celebrations and music as they climbed into a gilded carriage. He looked out the window, ignoring Danarius's hand on his knee as they traveled back to the apartment across town. He was in a daze the entire way, trying not to focus on his disgust, instead trying to think of a way to escape. To leave, to run away now might be difficult. Minrathous was full of power mages who were not shackled, and Danarius had allies. So he kept his head down as Danarius led them inside.

"My little wolf," Danarius smirked, and gestured for Anders to follow them into a parlor.

Anders watched as Fenris removed his sword, Danarius settling in an armchair. Fenris knelt, and Anders realized it was one of those nights. Danarius reached out to him, and Anders approached, his master's weathered fingers grasping his own. Danarius pulled him down to sit on the arm of the chair, and Anders watched as Fenris parted the fabric, working Danarius's cock effortlessly. He frowned, feeling repulsed and jealous and hating himself for the latter. Danarius sighed, arm around Anders's waist now, other hand in Fenris's hair, eyes closed.

Fenris looked up, mouth still around Danarius's erection. Anders peered down at him, concern on his face. Fenris blinked, brow furrowing. A silent understanding passed between them. The dynamic was shifting. Danarius was going to keep them together, but push them apart by forcing Anders to treat Fenris as a slave, not an equal. And as Anders watched Fenris drop his eyes to continue dutifully, he prayed to the Maker he could save Fenris and escape before that could happen.


	12. Chapter 12

The Proving Grounds were enormous, a massive triangular shaped prism adorned with thousands of hanging plants and flowers. Though Minrathous itself was an impressively old city full of magic, the arena seemed to be made of magic itself. Anders couldn't stop staring at it, looking up, shielding his eyes from the morning sunlight. Danarius spoke to both him and Fenris before they left, warning them that if they failed him, he would be very displeased. Thoughts of that morning and yesterday's horrible party escaped his memory though as he gazed at the architectural wonder before him. Fenris gripped his shoulder and guided him inside.

"We're going underground," he said. "Our house is waiting with our things and we'll receive a number for when we're to perform. You need to concentrate."

"I will. I won't let you die, Fenris."

Fenris smirked. "That remains to be seen."

Hundreds of people swarmed around them, Danarius having left them to their own accord when he left to find his own seat. The excitement of the crowd was palpable, electricity in the air. Could they blend in? Escape now? But Fenris took his hand and held tightly as they were knocked to and fro. Everyone moved in one direction, pushing them toward the arena, where vendors called out, waving eagerly to patrons to sample their wares. Fenris pulled him from the throng, down a stone staircase lit with globular lanterns fueled by magic. Other contenders, slaves and free men alike poured down the steps as the crowd above them buzzed excitedly.

"Is it like this every year?" Anders asked. He'd never experienced anything like it. The Circle was usually so quiet, even with classes. And the Wardens, while loud in their own right, couldn't compare to the sheer volume of people in one area.

"Yes, quite," Fenris said, pulling him down the stone hall.

Anders ignored his apprehension as the last bit of daylight disappeared and the lantern lights became the sole source of illumination. They weren't too far underground now, and it was nothing like the Deep Roads despite the obvious dwarven architecture, the runic carvings. His palms started to sweat and Fenris squeezed reassuringly, urging him into a large alcove. Everywhere people were stripping down and suiting up, preparing for the fights. Anders recognized the two elven slaves from the previous night, laying out armor and clothing. One of them bowed low to Anders and gestured to a pile of clothing.

"Dress quickly," Fenris said. "And we'll have a good spot to watch from before it's our turn."

Anders looked at the skin-tight leather pants and long-sleeved silken shirt, black and blue respectively. The robe was white, hooded and sleeveless, open at the front with the familiar dragon crest embroidered in black thread on the back. He stripped, feeling only a moderate amount of embarrassment as one of the elven slaves helped him dress. A silver clasp held the robes together at the waist, and he took up the black staff that waited for him. The bottom was sharpened to a point while the top twisted into a braid, holding a glittering blue gem. Carved into the handle were several runes and Anders immediately felt his power increase. It was made specifically for a healer, he could tell.

He turned to look at Fenris and gasped. His friend was wearing a similar pair of pants, skin tight, though opened at the seams on the outside, the leather held together with crisscrossing white ties from hip to ankle. He was shirtless, and the other elf was rubbing his skin with woodsy scented oil that caused him to shine. A belt was attached around his waist that held the sheath for his sword as well as an array of daggers and a pouch that Fenris filled with small vials.

"So," Anders said, eyebrow raised, "the oil helps you fight, then?"

Fenris smirked, looking up at him as the other elf secured his belt and handed him his sword. "No. But it is customary."

Of course it was. Who didn't like a well-oiled and attractive warrior? Anders was only glad it wasn't him put out on display like that. Fenris seemed perfectly happy, stretching, testing the weight of the sword, bringing it up to a fighting stance. Anders turned the staff in hand, pleased with the lightness of the wood. Fenris clapped him on the shoulder, smiling.

"You seem…" Anders started, but the smile was infectious and he broke off.

"This is something I'm good at, mage."

Anders thought he understood. Fenris was bred for fighting in order to protect Danarius. He was very skilled and every sword swing seemed effortless. It was a talent that anyone should be proud to have, that they would be happy to show off. For as badly as Danarius treated Fenris sometimes, this is what raised the elf's ego, made him feel like a person rather than a slave.

Fenris took his hand again and pulled him out into the hall. Anders looked around as he was tugged along. He recognized Faustinus's warrior, similarly oiled, hair pulled back in a tight braid. There were elves and dwarves and humans alike, dressed in varying degrees of armor. Anders wasn't the only mage, but he felt perhaps he was the best dressed one. It was irritating to have a sense of pride about something like this, to be happy that he was going to represent a man who just mere hours before was happy to slaughter a child for recreation. But the energy of the crowd, the cheering, that was something entirely the opposite of the darkness he'd been exposed to.

They broke the surface, emptying into a narrow dugout where Anders could see the floor of the Grounds. He couldn't see directly above him, but across from him, seated in the giant stadium were thousands of spectators, dots of color watching and waiting. Beside him, Fenris was bouncing on the balls of his heels, unable to contain himself. Anders stepped up to the wall, peering out, head poking out the gap to look down the row. Others like him were looking out, nervous energy vibrating through the contestants.

As people settled in, a deep booming voice filled the stadium. Fenris loosely translated for him; welcoming the spectators, gearing them up for the fights. A cheer rippled through the crowd, and Anders ran a shaking hand back through his hair.

"Don't be nervous," Fenris said, reaching down to squeeze his hand. "Just keep me alive and avoid dying."

Anders let out a bark of laughter. "So. Easy, then."

Fenris looked at him, head tilted. "You will succeed. Na via lerno victoria."

Anders frowned, shaking his head. "What?"

"Only the living know victory. Keep it in mind."

Anders looked away, back to the Grounds, another nervous laugh escaping his lips. "I'll try."

The fighting started with a parade of banners, dozens of slaves carrying their house crest and colors. Anders noticed a lot of them seemed to be of dragons, all different types. He spotted Danarius's, a white banner with a midnight blue serpentine fighting dragon. It was the same that he wore on his robes now. He wasn't able to quash the annoying feeling of pride he felt when he saw it, and had to viciously remind himself that this wasn't his life, despite the weeks of training that led up to this point. The Provings might provide an interesting, entertaining distraction, but after they returned to Alam, his and Fenris's lives as slaves would resume.

The crowd let out a collective gasp as the gates at the far end of the arena were opened. Anders counted half a dozen bears, foaming at the mouth, racing in. The gates at the other end dropped, and the fighting began. He watched hour after hour as different opponents were brought in, warriors and mages, dwarves with explosives, animals of all kinds. There was so much death, but no one seemed to see it that way. This wasn't a war, this was entertainment.

"It's our turn," Fenris said finally, grabbing his wrist and pulling him from the dugout back into the halls.

Anders followed, wiping his hands on his robes. Despite the noonday sun, the arena was a bit chilly. He and Fenris stood in front of large black iron gates, and from here he could get the grand scope of things. As Fenris explained, it held tens of thousands of spectators, and Anders finally could see it all properly. The scope of it, the full weight of what he was about to do finally hit him. He was going to battle, to heal in front of all these people. They would all be watching him and Fenris. Suddenly he felt quite ill.

"Fenris."

Fenris turned to look at him, his expression of excitement fading to concern. "Don't pass out on me now, mage. There are fifteen rounds."

"Fifteen?" Anders squeaked.

Fifteen rounds of healing. Fifteen waves of Maker knew what coming at them, with _fifty_ thousand people watching them. But it was too late to worry about it now, the gates were lowering. Fenris stepped out, sword in hand, lowered at his side. Anders moved up next to him, gripping his staff, looking around and feeling very light-headed.

"Don't look at them," Fenris said. "Pretend they aren't there. Focus on our enemy." He looked at Anders, clapping him on the shoulder. "Do not let me die."

Anders swallowed and nodded. "I've got your back," he promised.

The gate at the far end lowered and their fight began. Anders hadn't been told the rules, and assumed there were none. He hadn't seen any restrictions being placed on the other contenders. It seemed it was simple: kill or be killed. Fenris spun in the sand, cutting down their enemies – piglike creatures with spikes on their backs. Two broke from the main group and charged at him, but Fenris was faster, running full speed, leaping into the air and slicing them in half with one stroke, killing both. Anders knocked his staff against the ground, a purple repulsion glyph at his feet now. He threw out his palm and Fenris was surrounded with a silvery glow, a haste spell.

Another round, another wave of beasts. Anders felt this was just a warm up. While he had no real desire to kill these animals, it was easier to slaughter them than it would be to go against other humans or elves. Or more accurately, to watch Fenris slaughter them while Anders kept him shielded. Anders realized why both he and Danarius seemed so excited for the Provings, why they attended. Though Danarius likely was there for the rewards Fenris would reap, Anders could appreciate the beauty. The way the oil made his skin glisten, muscles flexing. He admired the grace and skill and strength it took to wield something as heavy as the two handed greatsword. The blade itself was almost as tall as Fenris, yet he turned with ease to cut down another enemy.

At the end of the fifth round they were given a break while the arena was cleared. He followed Fenris to the side, uncomfortably aware now of everyone's eyes on them. It was easy to forget they were in the arena, to imagine they were back in Danarius's courtyard, fighting shades. Now as Fenris accepted the bucket of water from one of Danarius's slaves, Anders felt the weight of the spectators' stare. Fenris sipped, then dumped the water over his head, shaking his hair from his eyes.

"Next five rounds won't be as easy," he said, pulling a potion from his pouch and downing it with a wince. "Shades. Rage demons, perhaps even a pride demon."

"Oh," said Anders, "is that all?"

"Keep your distance and remember our training." Fenris clapped him on the shoulder.

Anders nodded. "And the last round?"

"The other magisters' champions. Faustinus's warrior and healer. That may be our greatest challenge today. But I have confidence."

Anders was about to reply, but they were being shepherded back into the grounds. The bodies of the animals were removed, the sand raked over the blood. Anders felt it crunch under his soft leather boots, staring down at his own shadow, collecting himself a moment before the gates opened. Four magisters on a raised dais, pulled by slaves. Not their enemies, but the conductors. Fenris spun his sword easily in his hand and suddenly they were surrounded by shades. It was familiar to Anders, fighting in this style. He wished he could move into the offensive, but the more shades that emerged, the more skeletons that pulled themselves from the ground, the more he understood how invaluable he was for this fight.

He kept a repulsion glyph at his feet and kept himself encased in a shielding spell as three shades tried to attack at once. A rage demon clawed Fenris's back and Anders was on point immediately, a sharp jolt of blue light shooting from the tip of his staff, healing him instantly. He thought he imagined the 'ooh' of the crowd as Fenris recovered and rolled out of the way of another attack.

_Do not let him fall._

Anders froze. "Justice?" he asked, and the sounds of the fight, the calling of crowd dulled, nothing more than a distant noise.

_Do not let him fall._

And it was gone. The cacophony of the crowd, the clanging of sword against claw, the magisters chanting, summoning more demons. He desperately tried to get it back, even a small surge of Justice's power would be welcome. He missed the nagging voice in the back of his mind, missed the weight on his own soul. Though they'd only been as one for a very short time before his capture, he had been starting to get used to it. It was almost welcome. To never be alone again.

"Fenris!" he cried out, as a hulking pride demon appeared from nowhere and bore down upon the elf.

Fenris's lyrium tattoos sprang to life and this time Anders did hear the crowd cheer. He rolled under the demon, summersaulting between his legs before running full at the wall behind it. Anders bolstered his speed and watched him vault up the stone, grabbing the bottom railing with one hand, other one clutching his sword. He scrambled, kicking at the wall, trying to get above it. The spectators in that row all shifted away as the pride demon rushed forward. If Fenris didn't kick up soon, he would be flattened.

Anders broke from his protective glyph and aimed a fireball that hit the demon square in the back. Pathetic as it was, it didn't leave a mark. But it did divert the demon's attention. Anders took a step back, then another. The pride demon turned, skin leathery and horned, its eight black eyes blinking in the sunlight, fangs dripping red acidy saliva onto the sand below.

"Oh shit," he whispered, raising his staff, projecting a shielding spell as the beast hurtled toward him.

An animalistic scream pierced the air and Fenris appeared on top of the demon, having leapt from the stands onto its back. He sliced off one horn, then another and brought the sword down into the demon's head, point piercing through its wide skull. Anders barely had time to move out of the wall, tripping backwards as the demon crashed down face first, throwing Fenris from its back. He lost his grip on his sword and came to a skidding halt in the sand several feet away where he lay unconscious. Anders scrambled to his feet to run the short distance, scraping his knees through his robes as he skittered into the sand next to his friend. A gash on his forehead, wide and bleeding, and his arm appeared broken.

"Fenris… you daft bastard," he hissed. He healed the wounds easily then gently smacked him awake. "Fenris?"

Fenris opened his eyes, groaning. "Is it dead?"

"And in record time, too, I think. Judging from the crowd," Anders said, listening as they shouted. "Have you ever gone up against a pride demon before?"

Fenris sat up, shaking his head a little, pressing a hand to his forehead. "No. It was always solo combat versus shades. Other elves. Or humans," he added.

The roar of a rage demon brought them both back to the fight. The pride demon had simply been another round, and they still had two more to go. Anders stood, pulling Fenris to his feet and reapplied haste and shielding spells. Fenris gripped his arm before running out, dodging the rage demon's claws, catapulting himself to his sword. He yanked it from the pride demon's skull and returned to the fray.

Two agonizing rounds later, and Fenris was nearly laid out. He sat, resting for the moment, gulping down cold water. Anders watched as sweat rolled off his forehead, rivulets of water snaking down from the corners of his mouth. He gasped as he finished, tossing the cup aside before wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, then looked up at Anders, squinting in the sun.

"Five more rounds, mage. The other magisters' slaves and healers."

"You look dead on your feet."

"I am not on my feet."

"Turn of phrase, elf," Anders snapped, before swearing in Tevene.

"You're picking the language up quite quickly."

"Shut your smart mouth before I shut it for you."

Fenris smirked but said nothing else. Anders moved around behind him, pressing hands to his shoulders. He'd done an excellent job of patching the wounds mid-fight, healing the broken bones and sewing up the gashes on the elf's skin. Fenris was an extremely skilled fighter, but the sheer number of demons the magisters unleashed and he had been quickly overwhelmed. He fought his way through and Anders kept him breathing, but the exhaustion was taking its toll.

"I'll not have you dying on me. I need you," Anders said, palms flat against his back.

"Our master would be most displeased if I died."

"I thought I told you to shut up."

Fenris chuckled, then groaned as Anders pushed forward, a wash of blue light moving into his skin. His markings flared and Anders felt his own magic respond in turn. He'd healed Fenris many times before, used this spell in the privacy of their own room. It wasn't until now that Anders realized how intimate it was, the way Fenris moaned, head lolling forward. He massaged slowly, feeling the slick oil mixing with sweat as he urged the muscles to relax. Reaching deep, he knew the spell to rejuvenate his friend. He'd used it before in his past, though admittedly it was more to give his lovers a third or fourth wind. This was the first time he'd utilized it for its proper application.

"How do you feel?"

"As if I haven't been fighting the past hour," Fenris said begrudgingly.

"Good. It will put us on even footing with the others. It seems unfair that we have to fight ten rounds before facing them."

"Danarius likes to show off."

"Wait-"

But Fenris was standing, slicking his hair back and picking up his sword. Anders stared, open-mouthed, before he followed the elf back into the center arena. As they turned toward the gate, Anders could only think of one thing.

_He used Danarius's name._


	13. Chapter 13

For a seemingly antagonistic man, Faustinus was terribly sentimental. Anders couldn't help toss a glare back at the man as he rambled in Tevene, ringing his hands. He'd seen people be upset before, but honestly, his warrior was going to live as long as Anders didn't let him bleed out. Well, Danarius's warrior now, he supposed, since they'd won the fight. Faustinus's healer, a very thin, extremely beautiful elf with large chocolate brown eyes and short dark hair watched from just behind Faustinus. On the other side of the warrior's broad, supine form stood Fenris, face covered in blood, silver breastplate cracked in two. He was panting, gripping his sword, but no longer hurt.

After all, it was Anders' job to keep _him_ alive, not the warrior before him. Danarius and Faustinus had taken the field as soon as Fenris and Anders were declared the victors. Faustinus had practically begged Danarius for Anders to heal the warrior and Danarius, who acknowledged the warrior was now his by rights of combat, allowed it. Which left Anders wrist deep in the man's chest, repairing the damage that Fenris just inflicted not minutes ago. Some of the crowd was filing out, others staying to watch to see if Anders could bring the man back from what looked like death.

"Lyrium," Anders requested, feeling the last of his reserves draining.

Fenris knelt next to him, pulling a blue vial to his lips, which Anders drank from. He felt a resurgence in his power and easily found the damaged artery. Closing his eyes, he allowed his magic to guide him. It was as if another set of hands moved his own, steady and sure. The heart began to beat again, and Anders smiled, feeling it pulse beneath his fingertips. Suddenly the warrior stirred. He lifted his head.

"Oh for Andraste's sake," Anders muttered, and winced.

The warrior, seeing his still quite open chest, though in shock he couldn't feel the pain, started to scream in panic. Fenris moved quickly, bringing back a solid fist and striking him across the face. The punch would leave an awful bruise and Anders would take care of that in time, but for now it served its purpose and the warrior fell unconscious again.

"Thank you," Anders sighed, and Fenris nodded.

It was another minute of repairing internals before Anders was able to pull back and magically stitch the man's breastbone back together. He'd never had to heal such grievous wounds before, but he was confident the warrior would live. There wouldn't even be a scar down his chest as Anders expertly healed the skin. Danarius waved at one of his elven slaves who brought a basin of water and a cloth. Anders took both and started to wipe the mess from the warrior's chest.

"Your hands and arms first, Bellales."

Anders looked up at Danarius, then to Fenris, who kept his eyes downcast. With a sigh, Anders washed his hands and arms, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up for now and out of the way. Danarius reached down after, pulling him up by his elbow, and turned to Faustinus, who fell upon Anders at once. He spoke in rapid Tevene, and it was all Anders could do to keep the man from sobbing on him.

"There, there," he said awkwardly, patting him on the back of the head.

"What do you think, Bellales," Danarius said, stroking his beard, looking down at the unconscious but alive warrior. "He did fight well, but our friend seems awfully attached to him."

Anders looked at the healer behind Faustinus, who was looking at Fenris, then at the warrior. He frowned, peeling Faustinus off him. "It is not my decision, Master," he said, hating to use the word but knowing it would be worse if he didn't. The Provings were over for the day. He was exhausted. All he wanted was to go to sleep.

"I give you the choice."

Anders felt ill. He didn't want this choice. Deciding if they'd keep two more slaves. He wanted to ask the girl what she wanted, what was best for the both of them. Faustinus seemed proud, fond of them. And Danarius… who knew how he would treat them? But Danarius wouldn't accept just giving the slaves back to Faustinus without compensation. Anders had no idea what a slave cost and refused to put a price on a life. 

"Bellales, a decision must be made."

"Let Master Faustinus keep them. But his house can't fight in the Provings again for ten years."

Danarius chuckled. "What a benevolent deal. However, while that benefits me only slightly, I demand other compensation."

"Katja will attend to you this evening if you wish it," Faustinus said, waving her forward.

Anders frowned. The healer – Katja – was formidable on the field. Not a natural spirit healer but well trained and intelligent. And Faustinus was whoring her out. Maybe he was wrong about the man.

"Mm," Danarius said, turning his finger, indicating for her to spin, which she did. "No. That won't do. But perhaps my own healer would like to partake?"

Anders' eyes widened. "What? No! I mean, no, thank you Master. I'm tired from the day and wouldn't… enjoy it. Thank you for your generosity." Maker, what the hell was wrong with these people? She was a _person_ not an object!

Danarius sighed. "Gold then. Proceeds from your vineyard. Thirty percent for two years. After all, we wouldn't want to bleed you completely dry."

The magisters shook on it, and Katja brought the warrior back to consciousness. They moved together off the field, and Anders looked at Danarius for instruction.

"You both did exceptionally well," Danarius purred, gesturing for Fenris to stand. He touched the top of his head, the rest of his face too covered in blood. "Rest tonight. I will have someone bring you back home as I have other business to attend to. And tomorrow after the second round of the Provings, you can enjoy the festivities."

"Thank you, Master," Fenris said with a slight bow.

Anders repeated the sentiment, and Danarius walked away, striding over the sandy grounds and out a side passage. Fenris sheathed his sword and led Anders back through to the tunnels where they were able to wash up a bit more and change before the two elves brought them to an awaiting carriage.

"It's disgusting," Anders said, unable to help himself.

Fenris looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"How they were talking about Katja. Slaves really are just nothing but things to them. Faustinus was willing to hand her over for a night with Danarius. He just… he didn't ask her what she wanted or anything."

"No one cares what a slave wants," Fenris said and, perhaps sensing a rant coming from Anders, gently touched his knee. "This is how it is, mage. Slaves do not belong to themselves. They belong to their masters. Weeks in his service, and you know this."

"It's wrong."

"So you've said."

Anders huffed, and took Fenris's hand. "I won't say anything more now. It's not safe."

"You're learning," Fenris said with a note of pride.

Anders gave him a look, then shook his head. "At least we don't have anything else to worry about tonight. I'm starving."

"Our master will have food laid out for us once we arrive. Though I'd rather like to bathe first," he admitted.

Anders looked at him. Though most of the gore had been washed away and he'd changed from his blood soaked armor, his hair was still caked. He smirked a bit. "It suits you. Fierce warrior that you are."

Fenris actually chuckled, twining his fingers with Anders'. "It may, but it's not entirely comfortable."

The carriage rolled to a stop and they were deposited in the front of the house. Suddenly they were alone, no supervision, no crowd. Anders looked up and down the street. It was fairly empty, only a few people milling at the mouth of the crossroads. He took Fenris by the arm and lowered his lips to the elf's ear.

"We could run now."

Fenris froze up, muscles tightening. 

Anders felt the lyrium in his skin hum and sing as the markings pulsed. "We could leave. You still have your sword. I can keep you healed if we face opposition leaving the city."

Fenris shook his head quickly. "We're too well recognized. It is not the time."

He wrenched his arm away from Anders and hurried up the stairs. Anders wasn't deterred by this, however. It was progress. Fenris was at least considering the possibility, judging from the statement. To infer that now wasn't the time meant that possibly later would be. And Fenris was actually thinking about when it would be safe to run. And Anders admitted that the elf was at least a little right. So soon after the Provings, they would be recognized, and they were both exhausted from the fight. When they left, it would need to be at full strength. So he followed Fenris.

Inside, Anders settled into the tub, Fenris in the one next to him and they allowed the warm water to soothe away their aches. Two more slaves that Anders didn't recognize brought them food. He could almost forget the strain of the day, the fighting, the waves of demons and how many people he watched Fenris slaughter on the field. In the moment, he'd actually enjoyed himself. But these were lives, and this was sport. It was nothing more than entertainment for the noble classes of Tevinter. If the freed men wanted to fight for sport, let them. But not slaves. Everyone deserved the right to free will, to choose their own destiny.

"You're thinking again."

Anders opened his eyes. Fenris was staring at him, sitting opposite in the tub adjacent to his own. "I'm always thinking, Fenris. I do that."

"An admirable quality."

"I never can tell when you're being sarcastic."

"With you? Never." But the smirk betrayed him.

Anders scowled and splashed him, grinning when Fenris laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'm contemplating the morality of it all."

"It doesn't seem so black and white on the inside, does it?"

"But it _is_ black and white," Anders insisted. Yes, it was very nice to be catered to. To have someone else draw his baths and bring him food and laud him for his magic. But if his choice was to become a magister or return to the Circle in Ferelden, he thought he'd take the Circle any day.

"I've seen others in your situation. Mages taken from other parts of Thedas, apprenticed to magisters where they learn to become magisters themselves. They forget where they came from and they no longer speak of injustices." Fenris took a breath and ducked under the water, emerging a second later, slicking back his hair. "It is the way of the Imperium."

"It's rubbish."

"There was an Archon years ago that tried to outlaw slavery. You remind me of him."

Anders frowned, already knowing the answer to the question that spilled forth. "What happened to him?"

Fenris shrugged. "He was assassinated," he said simply.

"Figures." Anders sighed, leaning back. "I'm not looking to start some grand slave rebellion. Not yet anyway. I need to get out of here first, to figure out a way to bring justice to my own people. And then I'll come back here. If I live."

"You're willing to martyr yourself for mages?"

"Not the ones here," Anders offered, lifting a hand. "But elsewhere, yes. Though admittedly I can do more with my life than with my death. We shall see. One step at a time."

The water sloshed and Anders opened his eyes. Fenris was stepping out of his tub and lowering himself into Anders'. Anders raised an eyebrow, moving his legs aside as the elf settled down across from him.

"They're not really made for two," he said, both amused and slightly bewildered.

"I'm small."

Anders laughed and shifted, turning around, handing a cloth to Fenris. "If you're going to crowd my tub, make yourself useful."

Anders hugged his knees to his chest, chin resting. He felt Fenris's long muscled legs on either side of his hips and sighed as his friend started to wash his back. They sat in silence for some time, the room darkening as the sun slowly set.

"I dislike how ambivalent Minrathous makes me feel," Anders said, turning his head to rest his cheek on his knees. "Today was… it's so easy to forget that we killed actual people. For fun. Then it all comes crashing back. But I enjoyed myself. The rush of battle."

"It's a normal response," Fenris said. "Adrenaline, kill or be killed. Our master-"

"Danarius."

The hands on his back stilled, fingers curling slightly. "Danarius," Fenris whispered.

Anders twisted to look at him. Fenris's head was bowed. "He's not going to jump out from the shadows and attack you. He's likely at some party, talking about how impressive he is to own such powerful slaves. When it's just us, you can say his name."

Fenris nodded and looked up at him. "You are…"

"Mm?" Anders felt warm hands slide around his waist and he uncurled, leaning back against Fenris's chest. He shifted between his legs and settled comfortably, head back against the slim shoulder. "What am I? Other than the obvious. Which I guess is not so obvious any longer. I used to be a mage. Fighting for mage rights. Heading to Kirkwall to aid a friend. Now…"

"Extraordinary."

Anders laughed. "I don't think so."

"I saw you today. Healing. You… there was a flash of something. Blue light."

Justice. Anders knew it at once. He'd heard the spirit's voice. "It's complicated."

"Tell me?"

Anders shifted, eliciting a groan from Fenris. "Sorry," he chuckled. "You chose to come over. It's going to be a bit cramped."

"You're doing that on purpose. Dodging the question, trying to make me forget as you wriggle around."

"As lovely a distraction as it would be, I'm a bit tired at the moment."

Fenris slid his hands from Anders' stomach down to his thighs, gripping, massaging. "Tell me what the light was."

Anders sighed, shivering as Fenris pressed his lips to his neck. "You're going to get me going."

"Perhaps it's what I want. If you don't tell me about what's inside, I won't continue."

Anders shifted again, turning his head so he could look at Fenris. Wide, shining green eyes peered at him through the darkness. The sun was gone and they'd not lit a fire. "As much as I'd love your hands… your mouth," he added, "it's not a good idea. Danarius could come back at any time."

Fenris grunted and shoved him forward before stepping out. Anders sighed. He'd upset him, and from the way Fenris was banging around the room now, toweling off and wrenching open the armoire for clothing, Anders realized he'd have to apologize. Or deal with a surly elf the rest of the evening and likely all of tomorrow. Resigned, he ducked under the water one last time before stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist.

"Fenris."

"Mage."

So it was going to be like that. Fenris knelt and was building a fire, and Anders moved behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Lyrium markings flashed and in a second, Anders found himself flat on the floor, Fenris pinning him, straddling his waist.

"I have a spirit of justice inside me," Anders said quickly. He would have laughed at the surprised expression on Fenris's face had he not been momentarily seized by fear. Though he liked Fenris, trusted him, had built a relationship with him over the past few weeks, he was still unpredictable at times. Times like this, where he was sure if Fenris was going to tear out his throat or kiss him breathless.

"You… are an abomination?"

Anders scowled. "It's not like that. He's not a demon. He's my friend."

"You made friends with a spirit of the Fade and allowed him to enter your soul?"

"When you put it like that it makes me sound like an idiot. No, it was different. Let me up." He struggled against him, pulling at his wrists that were held tightly in Fenris's grip. "Fenris, please."

"Tell me what happened. I want to know why."

"Why?" Anders asked. "Why do you care?"

Fenris frowned. "You're asking me to betray my master, to escape with you to Maker knows where, and you won't give me the truth."

"You… you raise a good point," Anders admitted. He was asking an awful lot of Fenris. And trust was a two-way street. If he was going to expect help, he would need to give in. "I'll explain it. But only if you let me up and let me get dressed."

Fenris increased his grip momentarily, then released him, sliding off. Anders sat up, rubbing his wrists. The cold metal of his cuffs bit into the skin, and he sent a pulse of healing energy, shaking them out before getting to his feet. He dried off and dressed and followed Fenris down the spiral staircase to the sitting area. He lit lanterns to give them more light and poured two glasses of wine before settling down on the couch. Fenris grudgingly sat next to him, pulling his legs up underneath him, and took the glass.

"I was in Amaranthine," Anders said, drawing a pattern on the velvet couch cushion, a crude map to indicate their location in respect to Minrathous. 

He told the story of the Wardens, of the Veil, of Justice being trapped outside the Fade, everything that happened after. He spoke of the Deep Roads, the broodmother and the Architect, the story pouring out of him more easily than he would have thought possible. Mostly he spoke of Justice, casting the spirit in a friendly light. He wondered what his friend would say about that, being spoken of like a happy, benevolent being instead of what he truly was. And when he was done, sipping his wine, he watched and waited as Fenris processed.

"You allowed a spirit into your soul in order to save mages in the rest of Thedas."

"I did. Seems a bit fatalistic when spoken so simply."

"But it's not as simple as that."

"No, I would say not."

Fenris put his glass down and reached across the cushion to take his hand. Anders set his glass on the end table and pulled the elf close to rest against him. Fenris settled against his chest, Anders wrapping an arm around him. It was a few minutes before Fenris spoke again.

"Thank you for telling me."

"You deserve to know. If we're to trust one another. If we're to make this happen."

"It will need careful planning."

Anders felt his heart speed up, nervous and excited. "Then you're willing?"

Fenris lifted his head to look at Anders, and Anders saw the resolve there, the strength, but also the fear. He kissed him; it seemed a natural thing to reassure him, and Fenris returned it, hand falling to his thigh. A moment later, Fenris pulled away first, nodding.

"Yes. I will help."

Anders smiled and hugged him close, kissing the top of his head. "I promise I'll keep you safe, Fenris."

Fenris gripped him tightly, but said nothing.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need for extra notes in this chapter. It's not a happy chapter. Heed the warnings, it's going to get brutal.

It was a nice change to watch the Provings from high above than at ground level. It was even nicer not to have to participate. He sat on Danarius's right while Fenris sat opposite, and he forced himself to keep his focus on the fights, as if any wayward glance to his friend would betray their thoughts. Danarius's hand was warm and heavy on his knee, squeezing gently every so often. He would lean over to translate for Anders, to explain who was in the fight and so on. Anders might have enjoyed himself had he not figured out what Danarius was doing. And during a break in the fighting, he finally turned to him.

"You're trying to make me your apprentice," he said, his tone accusatory.

Danarius chuckled. "A position which many vie for, my pet. Yet you seem troubled by it. You would have your magic. All of it. You'd have access to that which is inside you." He touched two fingers to Anders' chest. "How did that come to happen, hm? Perhaps this is not the place to discuss it though, yes?"

Anders pursed his lips, but didn't pull away. It would only anger Danarius. "… quite," he said at last, looking away, regretting bringing it up at all.

"It's a choice, Bellales. You can continue to serve me in the fashion you have been, or else allow me to turn you into one of the greatest magisters the Imperium has ever seen. With my backing and approval, you could join the Magisterium."

Anders looked down at his feet, arms folded across his chest. He felt Danarius's fingers in his hair, stroking gently, comfortingly. It didn't matter what he said. Becoming a magister, keeping slaves, it was the furthest thing from what he wanted. But to remain a slave would be just as awful. "I'll consider it," was what he said in the end.

Danarius chuckled, hand dropping from his hair. "Fickle child. The option may not always be there. A little persuasion might be in order. Tonight."

Anders did not like the sound of that. The threat – for that's what it was – stuck in his head the rest of the day and he wasn't able to enjoy the festivities. A nervousness built in his stomach and sat there like a bad meal. As the day progressed, it only worsened, and his brain didn't help, imagining what types of 'persuasion' Danarius had in mind. By evening, he was a wreck. And Danarius didn't seem eager to let him out of his sight, denying Anders the opportunity to talk to Fenris alone.

"Sit, my pet," Danarius ordered, once they were returned to the apartment.

Anders sat nervously. It wasn't the room he shared with Fenris. He hadn't seen this parlor yet, not having had the opportunity to thoroughly explore. The room was brightly lit, a large rectangular table in the middle flanked by plush chairs. Not quite a dining room, more like an office, he thought. Danarius stroked his hair, then moved to a cabinet where he started removing several things, placing them on a side board. Anders strained to see, wishing Fenris was with him now. The door opened, and he looked over hopefully.

Danarius turned as well, smiling to see several men enter. Anders recognized Brexio and the dark-skinned magister from the other night, but there were three others he couldn't place. He watched them file in, shutting and locking the door behind them. They greeted Danarius in Tevene and spoke amiably. Anders doubted they were here for a fun time, the way they kept looking at him with rapt interest. He wondered if he could escape, if he could break down the door or jump from the window. It wouldn't take so long to heal his wounds. He could be running before they were able to follow.

"Stand up," Danarius ordered.

Anders stood, shaking slightly. "What's going on?"

Brexio chuckled, said something in Tevene to the others, who also laughed. Anders looked at Danarius, who was approaching now. Danarius reached out, started to undo the buttons on Anders' silken shirt. Anders pulled back, shoving his hands away. He felt the sharp slap across his face as Danarius backhanded him, then winced as his master pulled his chin forward again, eyes leveled at his own.

"You wanted this," he hissed, his voice quiet. "This is what I had planned for you when I purchased you. But I felt your power, the thing inside you. Yes, I know what it is. I know all about you. I was willing to give you freedom and power, a chance to become something great. But you rebuff me. You think me a compassionate man. That my favors are easily taken."

Anders shuddered, tongue flicking out unconsciously to taste the blood at the corner of his lip. Danarius let go of his chin and continued to undress him, yanking the robes open, pulling the shirt off roughly. Anders closed his eyes, head down.

"If you're unwilling to be my apprentice, I'll treat you as I do the others. You could have been great."

_I will be great,_ Anders thought, as Danarius unlaced his pants, shoving them down his hips. _Without your aid, I will escape. And I will come back. And I will kill you._

"On the table, face down," Danarius ordered.

Anders stepped out of his pants carefully and shuffled the few feet to the table, trying to ignore the other men in the room as they gazed at him like a piece of meat. He realized this was what it meant to be a slave. Your body wasn't your own. The first week or two of being in Danarius's service, while painful, were endurable. He preferred the whip, to be strung up and beaten. It was a punishment he could handle. It was a punishment Fenris handled. But Anders recalled the lust demon, how Fenris accepted it, but also how he cried, his howls of pain. He wondered where Fenris was now. If he was thinking about him, worrying for him.

His wrists were held down with a spell, magical bindings. He pulled against them but they held fast. His breath hitched and he shut his eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to well. _Don't give them the satisfaction,_ he thought. There was a cold dribble of oil on his backside and he scrambled away from it. Instantly he felt the familiar and extremely unwelcome stabbing pain up his spine and down his limbs. He cried out, lifting his head involuntarily, trying to get away from it. It was gone in a second and Anders let out a shaking breath.

He knew it was Danarius behind him, his master's hands on his hips, thumbs brushing along his skin. Anders winced as one of those thumbs dragged down, through the oil, parting him. He pressed forward, the edge of the table digging into his thighs. Biting down on his lip, he prepared himself for the blunt intrusion of Danarius's thumb, clenching tightly.

"Relax, or this will be much worse."

Anders reached for the healing magic to stem the pain but couldn't find it. He was choked, almost cut off from the Fade now, his magic a distant song. He would receive no relief. Behind him he heard the rustling of robes and Danarius's flaccid cock pressed against him. Anders swallowed back the bile rising in his throat as he felt it harden as Danarius rubbed slowly. Danarius laughed, said something to the others Anders couldn't understand. He turned to look at them.

Brexio was wide-eyed, licking his lips, hand unashamedly rubbing the front of his robes below that large belly. The dark-skinned man gazed at him, stony faced, one eye milky white the other dark, both unblinking. The third was blond, hair in curls framing his face. He turned to look at the other two when someone knocked on the door. Brexio scowled at the interruption but opened it. Hadriana sauntered in.

"I was afraid I missed the fun," she said, looking down at Anders. "I knew he wouldn't accept your gifts, Master Danarius. I, however-"

"Hadriana," Danarius said, and though his voice was quiet, breathing a bit labored as he thrust against Anders, the word was a command.

Hadriana shut up at once, and Brexio closed the door again, locking it. Anders gritted his teeth as Danarius pushed inside him, white-hot pain shooting down his legs. He gripped the edges of the table, cheek pressing hard against the wood. The voices above him faded and his consciousness was reduced to Danarius thrusting inside him, the feeling of being taken against his will. A gnarled hand dug into his hip while the other rested on the small of his back. He heard Danarius's quiet panting, Brexio's hand against his own robes, and Hadriana's quiet, mocking laughter.

_You did this to yourself,_ said a small, unhelpful voice. _If you just accepted your role as his apprentice, he would have made you a magister. But you're not willing to take that step to save yourself, so you'll be what you always were, a whore. Only this time, it won't be as pleasant. And you thought you could save the mages. You can't even save yourself, you pathetic slug._

He wondered if the voice was his own subconscious, his grief, his guilt, or a demon that slithered its way into his brain. A sharp thrust brought him back to the pain, thighs slamming against the table, bruising them. Danarius sped up, almost finished now, breath coming more quickly. Anders felt him lean over, cold lips pressed to his shoulder and he moved his head to the other side, trying to get away. Two more thrusts and he felt the sticky hot semen covering his ass and thighs. Danarius pulled back, leaning down again to his kiss his cheek, to pet his hair.

"Good boy," he whispered. "Now play nicely with the others."

"I want his mouth," said the dark-skinned magister in Tevene.

Anders regretted ever trying to learn the language.

"Turn him to his back," Brexio said in the common tongue. "I'll take him that way and you can fuck his mouth."

Anders felt hands on him, flipping him over. He gazed up at the chandelier, wincing against the harsh light. Around him, the magisters moved, the clinking of glasses as wine was poured. He thought he even heard someone chewing. They were enjoying a light snack and a nightcap, pleasantly discussing how to rape him. How… how could mages do this? How could _anyone_? He thought of the Templars, the leering soldiers, arousal on their faces when the caught him once with another apprentice. They'd watched, urging him to continue. He'd fled. He wished he could flee now.

_Magisters don't know what it's like outside the Imperium,_ said the same voice. _Here they are all powerful, like you could have been. They don't know what it's like to beg for their lives, to avoid the Templars, to escape from a hellish prison. Here, they_ are _the prison. And you're only too happy submit, aren't you? You like being a slave. It's what you're good at. So lie back and relax and let them take their pleasure._

"No," he whispered, and received another slap across the face for speaking.

"Force it open," Danarius ordered. "So he can't speak. Desidario, that should make it easier for you. No chance of teeth."

The dark-skinned man – Desidario – smirked and nodded his thanks as he shed his robes. Hadriana gleefully took up something from the sideboard and viciously grabbed Anders by the chin, forcing the gag into place. It was unlike anything Anders had seen, and he'd visited several brothels in Ferelden that catered to all fetishes. A metal ring held his jaw open, which immediately began to ache. Hadriana tied the leather straps behind his head, and he swallowed awkwardly, trying not to choke. Brexio moved to the edge of the table, lifting his robe. Anders felt the sweat on the underside of the man's belly brush against the back of his thighs as his knees were pushed back. Brexio wasn't as large or as thick as Danarius, but it still hurt when he shoved inside.

The light of the chandelier was blocked out as Desidario climbed atop him, over his chest. His pants were undone, his dark thick cock already hard, a pearl of precome glistening at the tip in anticipation. Anders whimpered, turning his head aside. Hadriana grabbed his hair and forced him forward, and Desidario slid himself into the ring, into Anders's mouth. Anders gagged on reflex. The salty tang registered only barely as the painful throbbing continued, Brexio thrusting into him with some effort. He tried to breathe, hot tears rolling from the corners of his eyes. He choked, swallowing automatically as Desidario withdrew his cock, then gagged again as it was shoved forcibly down his throat once more.

He was crying now, unable to stop himself as he pulled at the magical bonds at his wrists. Desidario fucked his mouth, leaning forward over the table, and Anders alternated between focusing on the man's navel and shutting his eyes tightly against the pain and humiliation. Brexio moved away and another took his place. The barest bit of oil was added before another magister he couldn't see grabbed him by the back of the knees and pressed into him. He was sobbing against Desidario's cock, tears filling his eyes, hardly able to breathe as his nose leaked. He would hyperventilate if he wasn't given air soon.

Desidario pulled back with a cry and came, and Anders was forced to taste the man's ejaculate, sticky and hot at the back of his throat, over his lips and chin. He tried to swallow and gagged, unable to breathe, gasping desperately. Hadriana let go of his head and he immediately turned to the side, unable to stop the oncoming wave of nausea. He vomited and due to the angle and the gag, the putrid sick dribbled out of his mouth, some of it coming to rest in the pocket of his cheek. He tried to spit around the gag, a string of saliva spilling from his lips. Someone laughed and Desidario climbed off him.

"Hadriana, if you would," Danarius said, almost kindly.

Hadriana took up a towel, untied the gag, and wiped him off. Anders spat, trying to get the taste of sick and come out of his mouth. The blond magister was below him now, and he hadn't stopped in his thrusts, the sounds of skin slapping against skin increasing. Anders felt numb, too weak to do anything but lie there, shivering involuntarily as he was taken again.

"May I have a turn, Master Danarius?" Hadriana asked sweetly.

"If you wish it."

Hadriana waited until the blond magister was finished, Anders feeling his leavings spatter against him. She reached down and started stroking his prick slowly, whispering something that gave her a handful of lubrication. Under normal circumstances, Anders wouldn't have minded the attention to his own cock, which thankfully remained flaccid. He looked away, willing his body against the pleasure she was trying to give. A sharp, hot pain filled his abdomen and his cock hardened. He screamed against the prickling, a thousand knives stabbing into his groin.

"Maker," he begged. "Maker, please…"

Hadriana laughed and hitched up her robes, moving to straddle him. "Look at me, Bellales. The Maker favors only the strong."

Anders forced his eyes open, an aching need in his belly. He'd never even heard of such a spell that would do what she'd done, and the impressed murmurings of the other magisters revealed their ignorance of it as well. At once he was enveloped in a warm sheath, Hadriana's nails digging into his chest. He bit his lip hard, the pain keeping him focused against the abuse his body was taking elsewhere. Hadriana raked her nails down his chest and he screamed, trying to pull away from her. Eight red lines of blood blossomed in their wake. Immediately the magic in the room became stifling, a weight of power.

_DO NOT GIVE IN!_

Justice!

Anders closed his eyes, sniffling miserably, Hadriana cackling above him as she thrust down again and again. Another man below him forced his legs up and open. The dried semen itching against his skin. Warm oil added to the cold mess and someone pushed into him. He begged for death, begged for the Maker to deliver him from this. It would be a relief. Death would be welcome. He left his body, but it wasn't the Golden City, it wasn't the Maker he saw. Was it a dream? Or the Fade?

Before him, an incorporeal form of a man in full plate uniform. "You must fight, Anders. I am with you."

Anders sobbed, pain wracking his body. "Justice, I can't."

"Then you give up on our mission."

"The other mages."

"They must have justice, Anders. You must see this through. I am with you. You cannot feel me but I am with you. Survive. We will overcome."

"Justice, wait!"

But the vision, the hallucination faded. His orgasm was painfully ripped from him, another byproduct of the spell, and when he came it more agonizing than anything he'd ever experienced. Hot needles shooting through his cock, tearing him apart internally. Someone else came as well, more hot sticky fluid coating his sac and hole as they pulled out. The room darkened, and he realized it was his own unconsciousness, trying to claim him.

Danarius's face swam above him, coming closer, blurry through his own half-lidded eyes. He felt cold sweat on his forehead as his master kissed him there. He whispered a word that Anders couldn't understand, but it sounded like, 'Sleep,' and so he did, allowing the blackness to finally claim him.


	15. Chapter 15

When next he opened his eyes, he was bundled in clean clothes, a warm thick blanket pulled to his chin. The lone candle in the room was almost too bright and he groaned as he turned away from it. It felt like the worst hangover he'd ever had, only without the long night of celebratory drinking to make up for the pain. His legs ached, ass throbbing, and the memories flooded back to him. He immediately curled up into a fetal position, head resting against his knees as he hugged his shins tightly. He wanted to become as small as possible, to forget he existed.

"You should drink something."

Anders tried to reign in his panic as he realized he wasn't alone. The pounding of blood in his ears subsided as he breathed deeply, trying to control himself. Fenris. It was Fenris in the room with him. The room that pitched and swayed and smelled of seawater. They were on the boat back to Alam. In the small cabin of the ship that Danarius had requisitioned for this trip. He stared at the wood of the bunk, remembering the familiar knot, and slowly reached up to trace a finger around it. Fenris had not touched him, and for that he was grateful.

"There is water here," Fenris tried again.

"Thank you," Anders croaked, clearing his sore throat. He hadn't remembered screaming, but it felt like he had been doing so for hours. "How long was I unconscious?"

"Nearly twenty-four hours. We're returning to Alam."

He missed a full day. _So much for the celebrations,_ he thought wryly, with no real disappointment. Slowly he sat up, careful not to bang his head on the low ceiling of the bunk. He sat back against the wall and accepted the cup that Fenris offered. Drinking slowly, his stomach started growling loudly. Over a day since he'd last eaten, but he felt too sick to acknowledge the hunger. Too humiliated and broken to care. He cradled the cup between both hands, forearms resting on his knees.

"Please stop looking at me," he whispered, feeling the weight of his friend's stare.

"I… I am…"

"Don't," Anders pleaded, shutting his eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from coming. "Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong and I don't want your pity."

"I would never pity you."

Anders let out a sob of laughter. "That's good. Good," he said, and finally looked up at his friend.

Fenris stood awkwardly in the small cabin, obviously not sure what to say. "Anders. It…"

Anders shook his head. "Really. There's nothing to say," he assured him. He ran a hand back through his hair. It was clean and smelled of soap. "Did… did you clean me up?"

Fenris nodded. "There wasn't much… damage," he said gingerly. "I bathed you when Danarius ordered me in, and I carried you to the ship."

_My hero,_ Anders thought sarcastically, but didn't say. He sighed, lowering his eyes. Fenris didn't deserve his anger, his frustration. The elf wasn't responsible for the act. He set the cup down, rubbing his face with both hands. "If I'd agreed," he muttered quietly.

Fenris frowned, fists clenching. "Don't."

Anders looked up at him. "What?"

"You taught me that it's not anyone's fault but his. If you took up as his apprentice, he would make you a magister. I promised you I would keep you from that. Danarius has chosen to… to take out his anger on you in this way. To show you that he owns you, that he can do with you what he wishes. Didn't you teach me to fight against this? Isn't this the reason we're leaving?"

Leaving. Escaping. What was the point now? "If we stay, we-"

Fenris growled and moved quickly to the bed, kneeling on the mattress. Anders scrambled away from him, into the corner, raising a hand to block a blow that never came.

"Stop this!" Fenris demanded. "You suffered tremendously at their hands but you've suffered before. You've been treated badly by so many others, and yet you persevered. You would give up now?" he snarled, glaring at him. "Are you that weak?"

Anders was blocked in, unable to move back any further against the bunk wall. He tried to calm down, to slow his breathing. He felt dizzy, then remembered himself. This wasn't Danarius. This wasn't another magister, someone who wanted to hurt him. Fenris was a friend. He was trying to help. "I… No. I'm not weak! I'm not!"

"Then stop acting like it," Fenris said simply. He reached out a hand, ignoring when Anders flinched, and touched his arm. "We have to plan. Once we reach Alam we'll be together again. He'll not revoke the boon even if you refuse his apprenticeship. We'll have time to organize."

Anders nodded. Fenris had been thinking about this, that much was clear. And it was good, too, because despite lying unconscious for a day, all Anders wanted to do was sleep. He ached, and he was tired. It was a slow, defeated sort of tired though. He reached up to pull Fenris close, and waited until Fenris settled next to him before turning into chest, feeling the elf's strong arm around his shoulder. They shifted, getting comfortable and Anders pulled the blanket up to his cheek.

"He'll make me do it again," Anders said quietly. He could feel the deep rumbling in Fenris's chest as he replied.

"Likely."

"Instead of his apprentice, I'll be his whore."

Fenris gripped his shoulder. "Then we'll have to plan quickly."

"Why do you want to help? What changed your mind?"

Fenris sighed. "I'm not… I'm not sure. Perhaps it's just your incessant prattling about it."

"You're agreeing with me because you find me annoying?" Anders asked, glancing up at him.

"Something like that, yes."

But Anders could tell from his tone that he was lying. Whatever the reason was, he was glad that Fenris was with him. He couldn't feel Justice anymore. That brief grasp of clarity while he was being raped was gone now, leaving behind an emptiness in his chest that ached. He buried his face in Fenris's chest and squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment, a warm hand moved down his shoulder, rubbing his back. Anders tried not to think of their faces, of Brexio's fat, greedy fingers pawing at him, Desidario's one-eyed leer. How Hadriana cackled. 

He must have whimpered, because Fenris hushed him soothingly. "You're not there anymore," he said quietly.

Anders didn't know how Fenris knew what he was thinking. Perhaps he still had nightmares of the lust demon, or something equally or more traumatic. He wondered if Fenris thought about that night, but didn't ask. Fenris spoke quietly in a language Anders couldn't understand, but it wasn't Tevene. It was gruffer, somehow. Sharper. But it soothed him. He was almost asleep, listening as Fenris recited something that sounded like a poem when the ship pitched, jerking him to consciousness.

"Not conducive to sleep," Anders muttered, heart beating fast with the sudden adrenaline rush.

Fenris shifted, bringing them both down to lay together on the slim bed. "It should only be a few more hours before we reach shore. Try to rest."

"What was that? That you were saying. It was nice. Not Tevene."

"No," Fenris admitted. "It was Qunlat. A passage from the Qunari's Prayers for the Dead."

"You met a Qunari?"

"They're a religion, not a people. Danarius played host several years ago for a woman who'd joined the Qun. She was very wealthy, very influential. Not a mage herself but she'd given birth to six mages."

"Why in the name of Andraste would anyone give birth six times?"

"Eight," Fenris said. "Two of her children were not mages. But the six that were became powerful magisters and as a result, she grew rich. Her children gave her everything, citing her as the source of their magic, that she was the reason for their success."

"Why did she join the Qun?"

"I'm not sure of her reasons. She was on her way north and Danarius let her stay here for several weeks while her other two children sought the army in peace. She was very old by the time she decided to convert. But she was already learning their ways. She taught me a lot of what I know of them. Then one day she left. I never heard from her again but I often wonder if she made it."

"I think she did," Anders said. It was a nice story and a nice thought. He felt he would need to cling to bits like that in order to survive the next few days, or weeks, or however long he found himself still in Danarius's company. "Teach it to me."

"It's long."

"I don't care. Teach it to me," he insisted again.

Anders listened as Fenris spoke, translating. He tried to repeat it, yawning in between words. He remembered feeling slightly irritated when Fenris chuckled, tried to tell the elf not to laugh at him, and let sleep claim him once more.

-

It was nearly dawn when they arrived home, Anders trying not to stumble as he was forced to walk behind the carriage that carried Danarius and Fenris from the ship toward the mansion. Anders knew it was another punishment, another slight against him to be forced to walk with the rest of the house. He hadn't been made to carry anything, but his wrists were bound in front of him, tied to the carriage. Thankfully they weren't moving quickly. Every step was agony though, and he reached for healing magic he couldn't access. Trying to ignore his own desperation, he waited until Danarius untied him, and walked behind him up the grand steps into the mansion.

Inside, he tripped twice, both times Danarius waiting for him to regain his feet before bringing him into the parlor. Danarius removed the chains but not the cuffs and sat. Anders slunk to his knees, head bowed. He'd gotten too used to being treated almost as an equal, despite the restrictions on his freedom. Feeling the carpet under his knees again he remembered what it was like to be a slave. A real slave, to bow to his master, to remain on his knees while being pet and fed like a dog.

"Come here," Danarius ordered.

Anders crawled forward, kneeling at his feet. His head snapped to the side as Danarius backhanded him. He was so surprised at the quiet anger, the sting didn't fully register.

"You embarrassed me."

"Yes, Master."

"Tell me why."

"I don't know, Master."

Another sharp slap and Anders felt it that time, raising a hand to touch the skin. It would be red, possibly bruise. The tang of blood reached his tongue and he swallowed.

"Tell me why."

"I don't wish to become a magister."

"Why not?"

"I don't want slaves, Master."

Danarius scoffed. "You already treat Fenris as if he belongs to you. Don't think I haven't noticed, pet."

Anders frowned, keeping his head down, hair curtaining his face. He didn't treat Fenris like a slave. At least, he didn't think he did. Fenris was a friend. An equal. "I'm sorry, Master."

"Hmph. Well. I've agreed to take Hadriana on for studying. She'll be moving in within a fortnight, once her affairs are in order. You'll assist in her training."

Anders fought against the impulse to look up. "Yes, Master," he said, because it was expected of him. He had no idea why Danarius would require this and wanted to ask. He kept silent. The slaps didn't hurt so much but they were degrading, and Anders would eventually learn why Danarius wanted his help.

"You'll service me. Then retire to bed where no doubt the elf is waiting to attend to you. Just don't forget to whom you both belong, Bellales."

"Yes, Master," Anders said, stomach roiling at the thought of what was going to happen next.

Danarius shifted his robes and Anders reached up with shaking hands, tucking his hair behind his ears. It wasn't enough that this man used him, that he was still exhausted from being taken, being abused again and again. Danarius wanted to make sure he was thoroughly defeated. So he took Danarius into his mouth and his mind drifted elsewhere. He'd done this enough times, and now that his mouth wasn't wrenched open, it was easier. Danarius as per usual remained fairly quiet, just a hand on Anders's hair, petting him softly. Anders thought of Ferelden, of the Circle. Of Karl and Nathaniel and the other willing, warm companions he'd done this with. He thought of Fenris, how the elf writhed under his ministrations, so much a stranger to this pleasure.

Lost as he was in thought, he almost missed the whispered command for his hand, and he wrapped his fingers around Danarius's shaft, doing what he could to hurry the process. And when Danarius came, he swallowed the bitter seed. A handkerchief was presented to him and he cleaned his saliva from his master's cock, the way Fenris had done so many times before. Then Danarius touched his wrists, silver cuffs glowing red before he dismissed him. Anders left quickly in case Danarius wanted to change his mind. 

It was only when he was halfway to his shared rooms with Fenris that he realized he could feel his healing magic. He stopped, hand against the wall, letting wave after wave of warm energy pass through his muscles. It didn't alleviate his exhaustion, not entirely, but the aches dissipated, the bruising sting on his cheek dulled then disappeared. Grateful for that, he hurried the rest of the way, and nearly fell into the sitting room, slamming the door behind him as if trying to shut out all the bad memories.

Fenris was there at once, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Anders was slightly taken aback by the affection, but returned the hug. The lyrium tattoos hummed a quiet song to him, and he traced the mark on Fenris's shoulder before the elf stepped back.

"I was…"

"Worried?" Anders asked.

Fenris nodded.

Anders leaned in to kiss him, but thought better of it. He could still taste Danarius, and wouldn't impart that on Fenris. He wasn't even sure what a kiss meant anymore. Was it simple affection? Attraction? Comfort? Did he love Fenris? Did it even matter? Too many questions, too many confusing, frustrating emotions. And behind them all, the memory of what had been done to him.

"Fenris," he said, moving to the sideboard to pour out a glass of water. He drank deeply before continuing. "Do I treat you like a magister treats his slave?"

"What?" Fenris asked, his tone sharp. "No. Of course not."

"Danarius said…"

"Danarius wants to see you broken."

Anders set the glass aside before motioning to the bedroom. The sun was rising over the horizon. It would be only another hour or two of sleep before they would have to attend whatever duties Danarius would have them do. He planned to reap as much comfort as he could. They settled together in bed, Anders laying his head on Fenris's chest once more.

"He's going to have me help train Hadriana. I think he still plans to teach me his magic. To turn me into him."

"Then you must play along for now," Fenris said. "Put him at ease. So when we strike, he won't expect it."

Anders found Fenris's hand, gripping tightly, holding it close. "I don't want the mask to become permanent."

"It won't. I won't let it."

"Thank you, Fenris. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on."

"It won't be too much longer."

Anders yawned, burying his face against Fenris's side, and fell back asleep once more.


	16. Chapter 16

Hadriana wasn't so eager to learn what Anders had to teach. She mocked him, interrupted him, and questioned everything he had to say. Anders found himself apologizing silently to Wynne and a half a dozen other enchanters he must have put through hell as a teenager. But while he had been mostly earnest in his questions, Hadriana was clearly testing him. He wondered if it was her doing, or if it was Danarius who instructed her to slowly drive him insane with inane questions. But he took several deep breaths and answered her as patiently as he could.

His days were routine once more, the assault a memory of the previous month. He still on occasion had nightmares, thought he could feel the pain in his groin, the sting of Danarius's cock inside him. But when he woke covered in a cold sweat, feverish despite the winter, Fenris was there to clean him up, to sit with him until he calmed down enough to either return to sleep or dress for the day. Danarius continued to provide him with proper mage robes and sometimes even allowed him to keep his staff. On occasion, he would need to service Danarius in the evenings instead of Fenris, but the man seemed more and more distracted with each passing day that even Fenris was spared the humiliation more often than not.

In the mornings, Fenris and Anders breakfasted together, a new elf girl bringing them their meals. The day was planned out. Fenris would attend to Danarius in the capacity of his bodyguard, trips into the city or another senator's estate and Anders would stay with Hadriana to teach her healing magic. She had a natural talent for it, but she didn't care to use it. Her idea of magic wasn't about the purer things, but raw power. She asked if blood magic could fuel a healing spell. Anders nearly slammed his head on the desk in frustration at that.

Late evening, Anders joined Danarius for dinner with Fenris standing beside them both. Anders felt awkward, sitting in a chair next to Danarius, sometimes being invited to join in the conversations and share his opinion on whatever they were discussing. He agreed with whatever points Danarius made and tried to make his statements seem original. It was difficult to pretend to care about Tevinter politics when his mind was on escaping. He thought he found a proper route through the wine cellar. There was a shelter down there that led outside. Fenris knew how to get to the city and from the port; they could sneak onto a ship and get to the mainland. Now it was just a matter of when.

"Don't you agree, Bellales?"

"Mm," Anders replied, looking up from his soup. They were talking about the Qunari, that much he knew. "A barbarian breed," he said in halting Tevene. "The Chantry would do well to…" He paused, frowning, looking at Danarius for a word he couldn't remember.

"If the trade tongue is easier," the other senator sitting across from them offered.

Danarius held up a hand to silence the man, waiting for Anders.

"The Chantry would do well to send aid to rid the island of them."

Danarius smiled warmly, reaching over to pet his hair. "Very good. You see," he said, running his fingers slowly through Anders' hair, "he's learning so well."

"His accent is wonderful," the senator agreed, though Anders knew the man was lying to please Danarius. "He hardly sounds Fereldan at all."

Anders gripped his spoon. He hated that Danarius seemed to enjoy talking about him to others, that they learned about him and his past. It was just another thing that Danarius controlled about him. He'd learned to be evasive about himself while he was escaped, to invent stories about where he came from if a lover he met on the run inquired. "Runaway mage" wasn't always the best response, not when your potential partner might be sibling to a Templar or friend of the Chantry.

"There have been rumors," the senator said. "We're going to Minrathous for the rest of the winter, just in case the Qunari do try to attack."

Danarius chuckled. "You overreact."

And so on it went. Anders chimed in with an opinion when he was asked, and ate what was put in front of him. He wished he could share it with Fenris. The elf only ever ate meager meals and expended a lot of energy. But the only way to give him a portion of the steak that was placed in front of him without arousing suspicion would be to hand feed it to him, and he refused to treat Fenris like a dog. After the main course and dessert, Anders was full to bursting. He almost felt sick from the richness, but his real nausea came from his apprenticeship being forced upon him. Danarius would not take no for an answer.

They stood, the senator shaking both their hands before allowing himself to be led out. Danarius waited until the man was out of the room before sighing.

"Idiot. A Qunari attack in winter."

"Yes, Master."

Danarius dismissed Fenris before correcting Anders. "Master Danarius."

Anders watched Fenris go, hating how vulnerable he felt without his friend next to him. He pursed his lips, frowning. "I never agreed to this," he said quietly.

Danarius took his arm, turning Anders around so he could look at him. "I don't think you quite understand how important you are."

Anders blinked. It was an odd compliment. Usually Danarius would comment on his eyes or his hair, call him a good pet or congratulate him on learning a new bit of conversational Tevene. He'd never been called 'important' before. Not by anyone. "I…"

"You have a Fade spirit within you," Danarius said, cupping his cheek, looking at him appraisingly. "And yet you're not an abomination. Demons would eat the soul, not share it, therefore they need to be kept at bay with vast amounts of power. But your spirit, he rests inside you. He could consume your soul and take your body to escape, but he doesn't."

"Lucky me," Anders said, feeling a bit of his old obstinacy returning.

Danarius smiled. "Indeed. So you see why I can't simply cast you as a slave. Pretty as you are," he added.

_Ah, there it is,_ Anders thought. He felt much more comfortable with this sort of compliment. "I suppose."

"You would be great, if you allowed me to make it such."

"So you've said."

"I will give you Fenris."

Anders felt his jaw drop. "You… but he's important to you." He immediately felt repulsed with himself that this was the argument he made. Fenris was a person, not an object to be given away as a consolation prize. But Danarius was starting to see Anders as an equal, and if there was a possibility of his freedom, of Fenris's freedom… "Why would you do that?"

"He's as loyal to you as he is to me. He'll serve you well in the Provings. Give me six months to find a suitable replacement for him. I'll need to find another capable warrior who can take the brands. Accept this gift, Bellales. It's not something you wish to deny yourself again. Remember what happened last time."

As if Anders could forget how this man treated him. The promise of apprenticeship, of being given his own slave was a blessing as much as it was a curse. Would Anders be willing to give himself over to Danarius, to allow this man to groom him into whatever he was in order to escape? The thought was terrifying, because Anders wasn't sure if he was strong enough to remember himself. Fenris promised to help him though, to not let Anders slip into the darkness.

"Do you accept?"

Anders swallowed nervously, and nodded. "Yes Master… Danarius." He hated himself as he said the words, but he would sort his guilt out later along with the details.

Danarius pulled him into a loose embrace and kissed his forehead. "The first thing to do is move you from your rooms into proper lodgings. An apprentice does not room with a slave."

"I want to stay with him," Anders said before he could stop himself.

Danarius frowned. "He will attend to you. I'll give you the night, but in the morning you will learn to treat him for what he is. He is skilled, but he is a slave. Don't forget this or it will be worse for him."

Anders could only imagine what Danarius would force him to do. Strip Fenris, beat him. Rape him? Possibly. He wouldn't put anything past Danarius and the man's depravity. Sleeping apart from the elf would be difficult. They'd built a solid friendship within their circumstances. But the alternative was worse. He could handle a cold bed if it meant keeping Fenris safe. If it meant they would be free in six months. Anders would accept that. Had to accept that. If he denied Danarius now, it would mean dire consequences. He could take beatings, he even thought maybe he could handle another assault on his body like he'd suffered in Minrathous. But what if Danarius decided to permanently separate him from Fenris? To separate him from everyone? The thought of solitary confinement to teach him a lesson, another deep, dark pit with only his own mind to keep him company. He shuddered.

"Go to sleep, Bellales," Danarius ordered.

Anders bowed and went, hurrying down the hall toward his room to tell Fenris the new plan. He was just about to turn the handle to let himself in when the mansion was rocked by an explosion, throwing him off his feet. Ears ringing, he barely registered the door opening, Fenris's surprised but relieved expression as he leaned down to yank him up.

"What's happening?" Anders asked, stumbling a bit, cupping his ear.

"Qunari."

It was the only word Fenris said, but the way he said it made Anders heart race. Fenris sounded afraid. For everything Fenris was put through, he never once seemed frightened. He followed Fenris, who was running down the hall now, turning corners back toward the dining room. Danarius was on the ground, coughing through dust. He reached up, and Fenris pulled him to his feet.

"The docks," Danarius said at once.

Fenris moved automatically, and Anders tried to keep up. Other members of the house were moving now, bags being quickly packed and thrown together. Another explosion, and Anders fell against the wall. Fenris kept Danarius upright, and they stopped only briefly in the armory for Fenris to take up a sword. He was still wearing his impressive armor from that evening's meal. As they raced across the grounds to a carriage, Anders tripped over a body. Fenris yanked him to his feet once more, and Anders managed only to catch a glimpse of the person before he was ferreted away. The other senator.

Anders piled into the carriage, Danarius sliding next to him with Fenris up front to handle the horses. Anders turned around in his seat to look out. Flames sprung from the top of the mansion, red and angry against the darkness, and several dozen large shapes emerged from the shadows around the building. Anders couldn't ever remember seeing a Qunari in Ferelden, but he knew it must've been their army. Behind him, Danarius was swearing rapidly in Tevene, and Anders had difficulty understanding.

"I thought they were days off," Anders said, turning to look at him.

"We didn't receive a warning," Danarius said, reaching into a side pouch in the carriage. He pulled out a book, a journal from the looks of it, and flipped through, consulting.

"So what do we do?" Anders asked, panicking slightly. It was just him, Danarius and Fenris now. On the road, alone. They could kill Danarius, make it seem like an accident or that the Qunari did it. And run away. He hoped Fenris thought the same thing.

"We get to the town, take ship." Danarius tucked the journal in his robes. "Banker's promissory notes," he muttered, patting his chest.

Anders wished he could've taken pleasure seeing him so wound up, so frightened, his normally cool countenance shaken to its very core. But it was impossible, as his own fear and panic gripped him just as harshly.

The carriage bounced hard and swerved, and an axle broke. Anders heard Fenris swear and hop down. Danarius pushed open the door and Anders followed. Fenris was unyoking the horses, giving them a smack on the rump to send them off. Danarius looked at the damage to the carriage and glared at Fenris. Anders realized a second too late what was happening, and the slap resounded in the silence of the night. Fenris's head snapped to the side but he remained standing.

"Idiot," Danarius spat.

"I am sorry, Master," Fenris muttered.

"It's not his fault!" Anders said, taking Danarius by the arm.

Danarius looked at him with a stony expression. "We have to keep moving before they catch up."

Fenris led the way down the path, taking them through a densely forested area. Anders couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but Danarius kept a firm grip on his arm. It would be foolish to magically light their way, the sounds of the Qunari growing closer behind them. They were depending solely on Fenris and his elven eyes to bring them to safety.

_Do it now,_ Anders urged Fenris. A simple sword swipe to take Danarius's head and they would be free. Chased by Qunari, hunted like rabbits until they were able to get away, but free. All too soon the forest broke and Anders saw the city, people running and screaming, scrambling for the ships. It seemed they had a forewarning, possibly from someone on the fringes of town who heard the explosions. Danarius led the way to the docks, the crowd of people running this way and that. A man slammed into Danarius, nearly knocking him over, and Anders recoiled as Danarius sent a fireball to his chest that melted his skin, killing him instantly.

"This way," Danarius ordered, and took them through alleys toward the quay.

Several ships were docked, people racing to and fro, piling what little belongings they could take with them. A very large, intimidating man was checking papers, taking coin, ushering nobles onto the ships. Several elves stood, scared and shaking, crying as they were forced to stay behind. Anders grabbed Fenris's wrist.

"No slaves," the man said to Danarius, who handed him several papers from the journal.

"It's just my apprentice and my bodyguard," Danarius said.

"No slaves, senator, just you. We haven't got room. Get aboard now or be left behind."

"My apprentice, foreman!" Danarius snarled. "And my bodyguard."

"Just the apprentice."

Before Anders knew what was happening, the cuffs on his wrists fell, Danarius raising a hand to remove them. Another three men ushered him and Danarius onto the ship. Anders panicked, reaching out for Fenris. A broad arm held him in place.

"Fenris!" he screamed, fingertips scratching at Fenris's hand.

The elf stood, wide-eyed on the dock as the foreman climbed up the ramp. Anders pulled against the arm holding him in place, ignored Danarius as he yelled in his ear. His feet left the ground as he was yanked back, the ramp pulled up. Anders kept his eyes on Fenris, yelling for him.

"NO! NO! We can't leave him! We can't! Please!"

The ship pulled away and Fenris had to turn to defend the slaves that were left behind, a swarm of Qunari descending upon them. The fires became pinpricks of light, and Anders no longer could tell Fenris from anyone else on the quay. He was crying, the scene becoming a blurry mess. Why didn't they kill Danarius when they had the chance? Why didn't they run? Leave him behind? Why did Danarius allow Fenris to be left behind? Rage, anger, and injustice filled him. He felt his magic, breathed in deeply his connection to the Fade, and rounded on Danarius.

"How could you!?"

Danarius glared. "I didn't have to save your life and I'm just as irritated to lose a valuable slave. He'll be costly to replace."

The words did nothing to stem his fury. He felt Justice, the spirit's power at Danarius's complete indifference to Fenris's well-being. Danarius didn't care about Fenris, didn't care if he was hurt or killed. Only cared about the cost of replacing him.

The last thing he remembered was Danarius's expression of fear as he descended upon him.


	17. Chapter 17

"Eat, master."

"I'm not hungry."

Anders sat morosely in the bay window, legs pulled up to his chest, peering out over Minrathous. At one point he'd been enamored with the city, the mages who walked as free people. He appreciated the power, the thrum of the magic that held up the very buildings, that was inherent in every corner of the ancient streets. But it all meant nothing to him now. For all he felt, it could've happened to another person he'd never met. What did he care? It wasn't his home, and the elf urging him to eat wasn't Fenris.

The elf sighed, his vallaslin markings a terrible mocking reminder of his friend who was lost. Anders turned to glare at him and the elf simply shrugged, carrying the tray away. Anders returned to the window. Four months and they hadn't heard a word from Seheron. The island was claimed, property of the Qunari. The rest of Thedas laughed when Tevinter asked for aid. Why would they help? No one cared about what happened to mages, freed or not. According to Danarius, the Archon had thrown all the soldiers he could afford at Seheron, but the Qunari seemed infinite. In the end, the senate decided to wait, to rebuild its army and then attack.

He leaned his forehead against the window, watching the rain. Winter was ending, the cooler weather giving way to the spring. Danarius had him fitted for a new set of robes, white and blue with the dragon embroidered on his hood. They were comfortable, even the shoes were lovely, though he rarely wore them. The apartment in Minrathous was warm enough without them, and his bare feet reminded him who he was. Slaves didn't need shoes. But Danarius proclaimed he was no longer a slave. It wasn't official, they hadn't had any courts look over it. But the cuffs on his wrists were gone.

Escaping no longer crossed his mind as often as it once had. His thoughts filled with his lost friend, wondering if he was alive or dead. If Fenris was dead, Anders would leave. He would use his next favor to free himself, or perhaps he'd simply kill Danarius while the man slept and walk away. But there was a chance, however slight, that Fenris was still alive. He was the best warrior Tevinter had seen in centuries, undefeated in the Provings. He had the power of a mage, could use his markings to great advantage. As long as there was an inkling of hope that Fenris still lived, Anders would stay. He owed that to his friend.

_We made a promise._

Anders welcomed the warm surge of Justice's power. The spirit seemed more subdued lately, quieter. It was getting difficult to know when the thoughts emerging were his or his friend's. Danarius encouraged it. He'd seen the full might of the spirit on the ship that night, unbowed, unleashed. Seven magisters fell to Justice's wrath before Danarius was able to talk him down. Anders still had no idea what the man said to Justice to calm him, and neither would tell him. Now Justice seemed hell bent on finding Fenris, fueling his own righteous anger. And Danarius accepted it. He allowed Anders to scream at him, to fling his fists upon his chest in rage. And then Danarius would comfort him, hug him, assure him they would find Fenris. He closed his eyes, forehead resting on his knees now, taking a breath to calm himself.

_"You left him!!"_

_"No, Bellales. He was taken from us. I wasn't able to prevent it, it's true, but your anger should be for those who forced him to stay behind. We will find him."_

_Warm, comforting arms around him as he shook with fury. "We have to find him."_

_"We will." A promise, a gentle kiss._

His hatred of Danarius waxed and waned with each passing day. The man was irritatingly intelligent, a vast library that he allowed Anders access to. Anders pored over thick tomes daily, trying to find a spell or a ritual or something that would allow them to take on hundreds of Qunari in order to search for Fenris. Danarius assured him he was sending out mercenaries, hunters who would infiltrate the island. Most never came back. The search was starting to look bleak, but Danarius didn't seem eager to give up, and for that Anders almost felt grateful. He didn't know what Fenris was worth to Danarius, not in monetary value. It was that part that sickened him, that hated trusting in Danarius when he knew the man only wanted Fenris back because it was costly without him. But Danarius was the only one he had now, the only hope he had at the moment in getting Fenris back.

He unfolded himself from the bay window and trudged to the parlor where Hadriana awaited. She was scowling at him, lounging on the settee, waiting. He checked the grandfather clock against the opposite wall. Twenty minutes late to their lesson. It was better than the other day when he hadn't bothered to show up at all. He heard her speaking with Danarius about it, and knew their master wouldn't care. Danarius needed him. And as long as Anders was willing to impress other senators with his and Justice's power, Danarius was willing to overlook certain slights made against other members of the household.

"You know your little elf is dead," she spat. "Or converted to the Qun, some Qunari bitch boy, getting torn open nightly by their horns and cocks thicker than yours."

Anders normally didn't rise to her baiting. He felt empty inside, and while Justice's anger rose, Anders couldn't be bothered. Hadriana was an annoying fly that would be swatted when the time came. Why Danarius even kept her around anymore was beyond him. But he didn't much care about the answer, even if he thought Danarius would deign to answer if he asked.

"We were on internal organs," he said tiredly, pulling a book from the shelf and sitting heavily across from her.

Hadriana smirked and leaned back, untying the top of her robe to reveal more of her cleavage. "You fucked him, didn't you? The elf slave? What was it like? Did he taste like lyrium? I bet it was sweet. I never had the chance."

Anders flipped open the pages and found the passage he was looking for. "Repairing organs is much more difficult than bone or skin or muscle because of the complexity. And you're still having difficulty with muscle."

"Or did he fuck you? Of course, someone as pathetic as you would happily let a slave fuck you. Did you love him? The way you mope around here, mooning over Master Danarius when there's even a hint of the elf. Did you think you would run away with him? Get married?"

Anders gritted his teeth. He'd had no such notions, of course. His feelings for Fenris were complicated and he never bothered to dwell on them, even now. Fenris was a friend, a good friend. Someone who'd seen him through this hell. And he wasn't going to let a friend suffer. Fenris had taken beatings, taken punishments for him. Anders would endure this for him. It wasn't even close to the amount of help Fenris had been to him in the months they were thrown together. Being forced to learn dangerous magic, living in comfort, and his only irritation the woman in front of him. The frustrations in his life could barely be counted as hardships. But he missed Fenris, the weight on the bed as he slept in his arms. He missed fighting next to him, keeping him alive, watching him move, cutting through shades and demons like they were nothing but smoke. The song of lyrium when Fenris stood close. He'd gotten Justice back only to lose Fenris in the same breath. It wasn't fair.

"You want to start at the deepest part, especially if it's the heart."

Hadriana was crossing the room now. A wave of her hand and the book was thrown aside, Anders pushed back onto the couch. His hands were pinned, and immediately he felt Justice's rage building.

"You don't want to do this," Anders muttered.

Hadriana laughed and hitched up her robes, straddling his waist. He felt her hand press at the front of his own robes, rubbing against him. "Remember the night we had together?"

"When you raped me? I do." It was impossible to forget the pain of his forced erection and subsequent orgasm.

"Aw, let me make it up to you then," she whispered, and kissed him.

Anders let her. Either she would take what she wanted or Justice would emerge. As long as he didn't kill her, Danarius wouldn't care what happened. Then again, maybe Danarius wouldn't care if she did die. She was thorn in their side, constantly wanting his attention, wanting a backing so she could join the Magisterium. She wanted power, plain and simple, and Anders guessed that if she was asked why, she wouldn’t be able to answer.

"Am I interrupting?"

Anders couldn't turn his head, but he knew it was Danarius, and he sounded irritated. Hadriana slid off Anders' lap, fixing her robes, and Anders could move once again.

"No, Master Danarius," she said sweetly. "He wanted me to kiss him."

"You know I hate it when I'm lied to," Danarius said, moving into the room.

Anders smirked as Hadriana stepped back. If there was one person he actually enjoyed seeing cowed, it was her. A second later, she screamed in pain, dropping to her knees, and Anders knew exactly what spell it was. Danarius had used it on him, a long time ago. Anders reached up, taking Danarius's offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Danarius held him close.

"Did you want to punish her, my beautiful bird?" Danarius whispered, nuzzling Anders' cheek.

"She's a horrible student. She refuses to pay attention," Anders said, looking down at her in contempt.

"Five lashes?" Danarius asked, kissing his earlobe.

Anders shivered. Danarius delighted in touching him, and at first it repulsed him. But the touches weren't harsh. He never raised a hand in anger. And Anders found that the disappointed looks and sighs were worse than any physical pain Danarius could impart upon him. The warmth was a poor substitute for Fenris, but Danarius was offering comfort, and Anders was too drained most days not to take it.

"Send her away for a fortnight," Anders said. "It'll be worse for her in the long run to lose favors with you and the others that dine with us."

Hadriana glared at him, but Danarius merely laughed. "One would think you were being compassionate, my pet."

"If it were anyone else, it would be a mercy. Hadriana can take the lashes. She can't stand the shame. Send her away."

Danarius kissed his cheek before looking down at Hadriana. "You heard the order. Go."

"But Master Danar-"

She broke off as Danarius raised a hand, her body wracked again with the pain. Disobedience, Anders knew, still came at a price. Denying a direct order from Danarius would result in the same pain. He allowed a lot of things from his apprentices, but he would not allow outright sedition. Hadriana slowly picked herself up off the floor, trembling with the aftershocks of pain, and slunk out, glaring at Anders.

"I'm glad she's gone," Anders said finally. "She's a distraction."

"A distraction, pet?"

Anders turned to look at him. "From finding Fenris."

"Ah, yes. Your preoccupation with that." Danarius sighed, cupping his chin with a hand, looking him in the eyes. "You understand, Bellales, that we may never find him. He may be lost."

Anders clenched his fists, a lump in his throat. He tried to speak but failed, and just nodded.

"My poor, beautiful bird. Was he that special to you?" Danarius reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind Anders' ear.

Anders closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. He should hate this. The man before him was repulsive. "He's… he's my friend." He refused to speak about Fenris in the past tense.

"I've been foolish," Danarius said, leaning in and kissing his forehead, his eyelids.

Anders' lips parted, breath coming out in little pants, chest aching. He felt like he'd been drugged. Danarius kissed him, and it was sweet and warm. He tasted of Antivan red wine, his beard scratching against his own smooth chin. Green eyes flashed in his memory, a low gravelly laugh, soft white hair. He stepped away, ending the kiss, and shook his head.

"I wish you would shackle me again," he whispered.

Danarius took his hands and forced his chin up again. "Why?"

Anders looked into light blue eyes that were almost grey. Cool, hard. He could almost believe that Danarius cared about him, that Danarius loved him. But it was a game, wasn't it? Danarius wanted his power. But there were moments like this where Anders thought maybe he meant more to the magister than just a protégé. It scared him how much he liked it. "It was simpler."

"I understand, Bellales."

"Do you?"

"You look at me like you wished you put a knife into my back that day. But you didn't. Why?"

Anders winced, looking away. He wrapped his arms around himself. "I should have."

"Mm. But you didn't," Danarius said again, and took his arms, pulling him close.

Anders rested his forehead against Danarius's shoulder. He wished he could push away, run down the hall, curl up in his own bed and stay there. He was a coward. Always running. Always avoiding the inevitable. He grew up running. Escaping the Circle, running from it straight into the Wardens. Leaving the Wardens, running away straight to Danarius. And when he had a chance to run away from Danarius, he simply gave up. Now it all seemed so hopeless.

_You made a promise. You have to find Fenris. Then you can sort the rest out. Go to Kirkwall. Help the mages._

"When we find Fenris," Anders said, "I will take him and go."

Danarius gently gripped him by the back of the neck, fingernails scratching at his scalp, moving up. "Very well."

Anders didn't believe him. Half the things that came out Danarius's mouth were lies and the other half were veiled truths, waiting to be lies. "Why would you let us go?"

"If you want your freedom, it comes with a price."

"What price?"

"Your Fade spirit."

Ander stiffened in his arms. Trading Justice in order to save himself and Fenris. It wasn't right. And he hated himself for considering it. "It's impossible. The only way to separate him from me is to kill me."

"No. There are ways. Ancient rituals. If we find Fenris alive, it will be your decision."

To allow Danarius to take Justice from him, even if it were possible, would be hell. Though Anders felt the weight of his friend on his soul, heard him while he slept, the weeks when he was shackled were painful. He didn't want to think about this decision, not now.

"When we find him," Anders said, "I'll give you my answer."

It could be another four months or four years. He had no way of knowing. But Danarius seemed to accept this, and slowly led Anders out of the parlor to the large set of double doors off the main hall. Anders frowned, looking around. He'd been in Danarius's rooms only once before to retrieve a book. An opulent sitting room gave way to a bedroom with three closets and a king-sized four poster bed draped in deep blue bedding. A carving of a serpentine dragon, jeweled and reflective adorned the ceiling, and the carpet was lush and soft beneath his feet.

"What are you doing?" Anders asked, as Danarius started to undress.

"You'll stay with me tonight. You seem so… lonely. You miss him that much. I will help you."

"But I don't want…"

"Hush."

"Yes, Master Danarius."

Anders undressed quietly. If he walked from the room, ran away now, he'd pay for it later. Danarius would have him raped or beaten, or worse he'd give up the search for Fenris entirely. He watched as Danarius's robes fell away. He'd seen his master's cock before, but had never seen him fully naked. Dark curls at his chest, a trail leading from his navel down to his groin. He was broad shouldered and in his youth, was likely very strong both physically and magically. Old age and disuse combined with a lush, sedate life left the once tight muscles loose and a slightly sagging belly. Anders thought of Fenris, of olive skin that sang of lyrium, a viciously wound coil of power the way he wielded a sword. Of soft, wide green eyes that glared at him when he annoyed the elf.

He stood naked in Danarius's room before the man who had him so well shackled even without the cuffs. And where was Justice now? Idling in the back of his brain, focused only on getting Fenris back. On getting out. What did Danarius say to him to get him to be so compliant? What did he do? But Anders didn't have answers, and so he went willingly to his master's bed, trying to imagine hands that were strong and young instead of old and gnarled. Hot and hurried kisses instead of gentle lips. Finally he yielded to Danarius, wincing at the whispered spell that left his hand full of odorless grease. He prepared himself, stretching his own hole. It was still a slave's role, after all. Danarius wouldn't touch him there. Just use him.

Anders looked up at the dragon on the ceiling, seeing his own face as Danarius pushed inside him, watching the pale back and the thin, flabby ass as it thrust forward. Felt Danarius's breath on his cheek, ghosting kisses, whispering endearments.

"My pet. My beautiful bird. Gorgeous boy."

Anders shut his eyes, wishing instead for a deep, derisive voice and a simply spoken word that had eventually come to hold an ocean's worth of affection.

_Mage._


	18. Chapter 18

He'd been dreaming about Karl, about the Circle. They were lying together in bed, Anders resting his head on his lover's shoulder, tracing patterns over his skin, discussing what they would do if mages were free. A sharp knock on the door. Not the Circle. And the body against his was not Karl's. A twinge between his legs and last night came back to him in a wave of frustration and nausea. He pressed the inside of his wrist to his forehead, groaning quietly as he sent a wave of healing magic through his sore limbs. For a man as old as Danarius was, he had a lot of stamina. Or perhaps it was a spell. Anders had come twice, and his third orgasm was painful and dry. Danarius was annoyingly thorough, and Anders had a sound sleep that for once seemed to be devoid of darkspawn and nightmares.

"Come," Danarius muttered, half-asleep still.

The door opened and Anders heard a girl's voice, a house slave – Lia? Mia? He couldn't remember. "I'm sorry, Master. There's a messenger. A soldier, he says it's urgent."

Danarius shifted, yawning as he asked, "Who?"

"He says it's about Fenris."

Anders' eyes shot open and he sat up, nearly falling out of bed in his haste. His clothing was strewn on the floor and he dressed quickly. 

Danarius sat up and stretched before taking up a dressing gown, wrapping it around himself. He yawned once more before addressing the girl again. "We'll receive him in the parlor. Coffee, toast and bacon."

She bowed and hurried out. Anders tied the sash to his robe and looked to Danarius, waiting for that nod of approval before flinging himself from the room and racing down the hall. The soldier was young, perhaps early twenties, with thick black windswept hair and dark eyes, clean shaven and quite attractive. His breastplate was splattered with dark blood that streaked across the metal. He looked at Anders and bowed.

"Master Bellales."

Anders frowned. "Cletus." He remembered this man. Danarius hired him nearly a month ago. "We thought you were dead."

Danarius entered the room, his expression one of mild surprise as his eyes fell upon Cletus. "Risen, no doubt, to bring us news."

Cletus bowed to Danarius. "Yes, Master Danarius. I have news. Fenris lives."

Anders felt his breath catch in his throat, heart beating wildly, muscles aflame. He wanted to go. Right now. "Where is he?" he demanded.

"Are you sure?" Danarius asked, settling himself on the couch, gesturing for Cletus to sit.

Cletus sat across from him, but Anders remained standing. He ignored the girl who'd woken them as she brought in coffee and a breakfast tray.

"We found the elf that matches the description you gave. Lyrium tattoos, white hair. My lord, he's… he's taken up with a band of Fog Warriors. They slaughtered my company. I was able to escape, but he's well-guarded."

Danarius snorted. "We shall see," he said, taking up a cup of coffee. "You shall be paid double if you can give us the location." He looked to Anders. "My coin purse and a map."

Anders hurried to retrieve the items, feeling lightheaded. They found him. He was alive. He was safe. Anders knew little about the Fog Warriors, but if Fenris was fighting with them and not against them, he would stand a good chance against the Qunari. He returned with the purse and the map. Danarius handed the latter to Cletus, who spread it over the coffee table, careful not to disturb the breakfast tray.

"Here," he said, pointing to a forest just south of a mountain range before dragging his finger further south and drawing out a triangular shape. "But the Qunari forces are thick here."

Anders watched, memorizing the map, taking in the possible ports. "The coast is easily accessible. And the Qunari won't have it all covered."

"Mm," Cletus said. "We were able to get in through a series of caves in the west. Large enough for a ship to dock and passage for a small army. Nothing the Qunari would consider a threat and likely nothing they'd be looking for."

"How much to resupply you, and how many men do you need?" Danarius asked, leaning back.

Cletus named a figure. "With all due respect, Master Danarius, it's not wise to consider joining the trip. It's-"

"Fenris will only come quietly if I'm there."

"And me," Anders said, looking at Danarius. "I'm coming." Danarius's lip curled, and Anders felt a spike of fear. He had spoken out of turn. "Please, master," he said hurriedly. "I can help. He'll listen to me. You said yourself he had affection for me. If we're going to get him back."

Danarius frowned and sipped from his cup before taking up a piece of toast. "I suppose. As long as you make yourself useful, Bellales. We could use a skilled healer, yes, Cletus?"

Cletus nodded. "Of course. These warriors, they'll fight with everything they have."

"When do we leave?" Anders asked.

"Two days should be enough time to gather everything I need," Cletus said, rolling up the map.

Danarius opened the purse, silently counted what was inside, then closed it before handing the entire thing to Cletus. "Make it tomorrow. That's double your asking price. Noon?"

Cletus took it, wide-eyed. "Yes, Master Danarius, of course. We'll meet at the docks at noon."

"If you need a room for tonight, you've earned one here," Danarius said. "I'll let my doorman know."

Cletus stood and bowed to both of them, then left to make arrangements. Anders gripped the back of the couch, filled with anxious anticipation. Noon tomorrow. An entire day before they could leave to find Fenris. But they were going to find him. Danarius reached up and took his hand, pulling him down. Anders barely registered the kiss, the taste of coffee, the crumbs on his master's lips. He was still in a daze when Danarius let him go, and missed a question.

"Hm?"

"I said you should bathe and breakfast, then pack a light bag. It might be hard travels. I think you'll need your staff for this, yes?"

"Yes, master," Anders said, feeling Danarius squeeze his hand. He turned from the room to do as he was told.

-

That nervous anxiety stayed with him through the night and into the next morning, so much that he barely was able to sleep. He kept vigil on the deck of the ship, staff slung against his back, soldiers giving him a wide berth. None of them were mages, all of them mercenaries or soldiers that deserted the Imperial army. Their reasons were their own and Cletus assured Danarius that their swords were as good as his coin. Anders didn't care to ask. He thought of Fenris, what four months on his own must have been like, and wondered how he escaped the Qunari attack on the docks that night. So many questions he had to ask him. And he would get the answers once he saw his friend again.

_Once this promise is fulfilled, we can help the mages._

The mages. It seemed like such a far off task. A cause he'd forgotten about. He remembered the Circle, the rest of Thedas, that not all mages were afforded the surety that he was. The mages would be free, just like how they were in Tevinter. They would have the same rights and privileges given to him. But first, Fenris. Fenris would help him. He willed the ship to move faster.

It was twilight when they reached the shore and Anders walked with Danarius, the soldiers both in front and flanking them. Cletus led the way. They encountered no opposition, no Qunari on this side of the island. Anders was glad for that. Amongst his nightmares of darkspawn and demons, he often saw large, horned creatures who cleaved Fenris in two as if it meant no more to them than swatting a fly. Inevitably he'd wake in a cold sweat and Fenris would be gone, no one to lull him back to sleep except Justice, who was little more than a warm weight in his head.

_Can you hear me?_ he asked the spirit.

Silence.

Sometimes, it was clear as day. He could feel him, talk to him. On occasion get a straight answer. But mostly, and especially of late, he was silent. Thoughts twisting together, and it was difficult to tell how much was himself and how much was Justice. But why would Justice bow to Danarius? Why would Justice allow it to happen? Did Danarius hold his leash? If so, how? So many questions that had no answers. Danarius might explain it but Anders was too frightened to ask. Some days he could be strong, but others, it was difficult just to go on.

_Fenris. Once we save Fenris, bring him back, then we can leave together and it won't matter._

With every step he took, pushing himself forward, away from the coast and into the forest, he kept that thought close.

"If he's still alive," Danarius said quietly, "I will honor the deal I presented. Have you thought on it?"

To separate himself from Justice. To have his soul back. But then where would Justice go? Would Danarius take him in? What would happen to his friend then? Would Justice become corrupted by the blood rituals Danarius often indulged in? Would he be made to dance like a monkey at the magister's parties? Could he do that to Justice?

"I've considered it," he replied evasively.

Danarius _hmm_ ed. "You're both welcome to stay, of course. It's been pleasant these past few months, has it not?"

Anders shivered a little. It had, aside from the longing ache of missing Fenris by his side. He'd been fed and clothed, given a warm bed and privacy. His only duties were to attend to Danarius's guests and perform some spell work. He hadn't been made to engage in blood rituals or sacrifices, the demons were kept far away when they came out. Danarius made him tutor Hadriana, but that was the worst of it. And maybe with Fenris there, he would no longer be responsible for her schooling in the healing arts. She was vastly uninterested in what he had to teach, and Danarius knew it. Maybe he would allow them to continue to act in the capacity of bodyguard and healer for him and they could live under his roof with only menial tasks to fulfill. After all, how bad would it be to spend a night or two a week in Danarius's bed if it meant staying together with Fenris?

_And the other mages in Thedas?_

He chewed on his lower lip, head down, watching his steps in the darkness. How could stay here while others suffered? He would need to make a decision. He could free the mages without Justice's help. If he had Fenris at his side. And if he stayed, he would have both, but he would have to forfeit his cause. That simply wasn't an option. Justice would understand. Danarius would have his Fade spirit and Anders would have his freedom.

An arrow whistled through the air, narrowly missing him and embedding itself in the neck of a mercenary just behind him. The man gurgled and fell to the ground. Immediately the others spread out, Anders remembering belatedly to put up a shielding spell. An unnatural fog rolled through the forest and he couldn't see anything, just thick, smoky whiteness. He panicked, reaching out blindly for anyone. His fingers brushed chain mail.

"Who's that?"

"Cletus?" Anders breathed. "I can't see."

"Stay vigilant, Master Anders. This is how they attacked last-"

Cletus jerked and Anders ducked in time to avoid losing his head. He palmed the ground and removed his staff, a purple glyph reflecting off the fog. Someone screamed in the distance, the sound muted through the smoke. The clanging of swords, the twang of arrows. He heard a shout in Tevene but couldn't make it out. He began to crawl, keeping low to avoid the battle he couldn't see. Another clang of swords, a squelching sound and through the mist, Anders felt something warm and sticky smatter against his face and arm. He reached up and wiped it away. Blood. Then silence.

He reached out, hand against a tree, and listened. Footsteps coming closer. He tried the opposite direction, but stumbled over a body. It was still warm. And wearing robes. His heart raced and he pulled the man to a sitting position, holding him up. Danarius, though his face was nigh unrecognizable, three long claw marks like a large cat's mauling slashed him from forehead to chin. His arm was broken and blood stained his robes near his chest.

"Master Danarius?" he whispered, shaking him a bit, panicking slightly.

Anders pressed him back to the dirt, rolled up his sleeves and searched for the wound. A sword through his heart. He should be dead. Only the barest bit of magic was keeping him alive. Anders unthinkingly poured his own power into him, bringing him back from the brink. Danarius gasped, coming to. The fog cleared around them, but Anders didn't realize they were surrounded until the cold metal of a sword bit into his throat.

"Why are you here?" said a voice in Tevene.

Anders raised his hands in surrender, turning toward the attacker. He was tall, the blade he held long and slim, and he was armored from head to toe, with a helmet that covered his face entirely. "Please. I'm just looking for my friend."

"Anders?" someone asked in a gravelly tone.

Anders looked around and tried to get to his feet, but the sword cut deeper and he immediately dropped back down. Beside him Danarius, barely conscious, was reaching for his staff. The Fog Warrior reacted instantly, flinging a dagger that pinned Danarius's sleeve to the dirt.

"Wait," said the same voice, and Fenris stepped into Anders' view. "Anders. Is it… really you?"

Fenris was dressed in dull grey leggings and a tight, sleeveless tunic. He wore his silver breastplate and gauntlets, the familiar greatsword held loosely in his hand. 

"Fenris," Anders breathed, relief flooding through every muscle in his body. "We found you."

"He's no longer yours, magister," the Fog Warrior spat, forcing Anders back against the tree.

"He's not a-" Fenris started

"Fenris," Danarius interrupted quietly. "My little wolf. It's been too long. We've come to take you home."

"Fenris, please," Anders begged, and winced as he felt the cold steel cut his skin, droplets of blood spilling down his neck. He dug his head back against the bark of the tree, but the sword only moved closer.

"Don't hurt him," Fenris said, raising a hand. "He's a slave."

Danarius chuckled. "Not anymore, Fenris. Who do you think organized the hunt? Who wanted you back? I only paid for information to find you because Bellales was desperate. Now. Are you going to disappoint him?"

Anders looked up at Fenris, into those green eyes he'd been dreaming about. "Fenris. You promised you'd help me. I came to find you so we could escape together. I didn't mean to… I didn't… I'm not a magister. Just an apprentice. I wanted… you promised me… please." The words came quickly, haltingly. He had no idea what he was begging for. Seeing his friend after all these months, a rush of emotion, tangled and confusing bubbled up to the surface. "We leave together or not at all, right?"

"Fenris, listen to him," Danarius said carefully. "Do you really think you could stay here, with these people? Do you really think this is your place?"

Anders saw other dark shapes now moving through the fading fog. A dozen warriors, perhaps more emerging from the trees. Fenris looked to the Fog Warrior with the sword at Anders' throat.

"I will cut off his head," the warrior promised. "You're free now, Fenris. You don't need to return to them."

"But he is my… he is my friend," Fenris said, frowning, brow furrowed. "We fought together. We were going to leave together."

"We still can!" Anders pleaded. "Fenris…"

"Kill them, Fenris, and you can come back," Danarius said gently.

Fenris gripped his sword.

Anders waited.

A silvery light erupted in the dark, Fenris moving so quickly he was nothing more than a bright blur to Anders. The sword at his throat fell, the torso following, the Fog Warrior's head rolling to the ground. Anders watched in horror as Fenris moved, so dangerous, so beautiful, cutting through the others as easy as if they weren't even moving. Danarius reached over, plucking the dagger from his sleeve and picked up his staff. Anders helped him stand. Despite his healing, Danarius was still badly wounded. In seconds, the ground was littered with more bodies, and Fenris stood in the middle, blood decorating his tunic and breastplate, a macabre testament of his power and skill.

"Fenris," Danarius said.

Fenris turned, panting, and he looked directly at Anders. "You…"

"Fenris, please. Master Danarius said we can return. And he's promised me that once I complete my apprenticeship, you'll be mine."

It was the wrong thing to say. Fenris's face went from mild surprise to fury. "I am not a slave," he growled, stepping back.

"No, I didn't mean… Fenris, please, we can leave. We can…" Anders was desperate. Four months, four months of waiting, of wondering what happened. He started forward. "You won't be a slave anymore, not once I accept Master Danarius's favor."

"Don't touch me, _mage_ ," Fenris snarled. "I should have realized. You are too weak. You've fallen."

"Fenris!" Danarius snapped. "You will come here. Now."

Fenris shook his head. He looked at Anders. "I… I failed you. I let you fall to this. To the magisters. It's… it's my fault."

"No!" Anders said. "Please, Fenris. Just come back. We can fix it." _Don't leave me alone again._

"I can't," Fenris said, eyes shining with tears. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"FENRIS!"

His screams echoed in the dark forest as Fenris turned and fled. Anders gripped tightly to Danarius, who could no longer stand from blood loss. Anders lowered him to the ground, tears spilling hotly from his cheeks as he pressed his hands to Danarius's chest to heal him.

_He left you. He left you for good this time and he's never coming back. He chose to go. Not even a slave thinks you're worthy of help anymore._

Anders poured the last of his mana into healing Danarius, then slumped over his chest. Darkness was a mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that ends the first arc! Don't worry - the second is already written and just undergoing some edits. I promise the entire fic (all three arcs) should be posted by the end of the weekend. I try to get as much done at work as possible, but since I'm on an overnight schedule things get posted at weird times.
> 
> Again, thank you all so, so much for the support for this fic. I've gotten so much love and so many comments for it. I really appreciate it. Concrit is welcome too, so if there's anything you didn't particularly care for or feel that maybe I didn't do as well as I could have, lay it on me. It's the only way I can get better.
> 
> Thanks, guys. See you in the next arc. ^_^
> 
> Edited to add:
> 
> Some lovely fan art by <http://airaveirra.deviantart.com/>


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